


You Got A Friend (With Benefits) In Me

by I_JustWokeUp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angsting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fuckbuddies, Jealousy, M/M, Oneshot, SOME isaac/stiles, Slow Build, Sterek endgame, Writer Derek, family fallout, smutty-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_JustWokeUp/pseuds/I_JustWokeUp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cora asks him to be her fake boyfriend, Stiles isn't expecting to fall (so hard) for his best friend's older brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Got A Friend (With Benefits) In Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a PWP practice story, but grew into something with legs (and feelings).
> 
> There's actually two spots where I wanted to include more smut but I don't have any more time to think about ways to make sterek sexy times sound good (which is hard to do because I've read so many good ones, I can't possibly compare). But I am proud of the way I've written this slow build, incorporating my obsession with the themes of fake relationships, fuckbuddies and male pregnancy in Sterek stories this summer (note: there is no mpreg in this story but there is-nonexplicit-fpreg). I really hope the ending feels less rushed but you guys will have to let me know.

“Thanks again.” Cora reaches over to smooth down a runaway tuft of Stiles’ messy brown hair. She hesitates before adding, “My siblings are much more bark than bite, just to get that out of the way.”

“Hey, I owe you for helping me study for that brutal Comp Lit class.” Stiles assures her, smoothing down his shirt as the cab goes over a brutal pothole and teeth rattle, “If you want me to pay you back by eating a free meal, then I’m game.”

“ _And_ pretend that we’re dating.” Cora reminds him, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest, her gaze outside the window where Portland brick apartments line the streets, broken up by the occasional coffeeshop, “Without lying about it specifically. You suck at lying so focus on half-truths.”

“Right.” Cora complained often about the nosiness of her family, but Stiles could understand them wanting to know about her personal life. They were her family, after all, “Cora, explain to me why you’re not telling them about your boyfriend again? I mean, yeah, he’s ridiculously old, but he’s a hottie.”

She brings him to Kira’s Thursday Poker Potlucks. The guy is clearly head-over-heels, mad-crazy for Cora. He just also happened to be widowed, with a daughter their age.

“They would never approve.” Cora shakes her head, pursing her lips, “I don’t really want to get into it, but it’s more than the generational difference. I mean, yes we’re in different places in our lives but…” Her lips thin, frustrated, “I just- _I love him_. The forever kind with rocking chairs side-by-side, lazy weekend sex and chicken soup.”

“All the more reason why you should tell them.”

“I will, after I graduate in May.” Cora turns to him, straightening his collar, “It’ll be one less objection for them to make because I won’t be a student and he’s accepted an offer to teach at UC-Beacon, close to home. We’ll move in together and then I’ll tell them everything. That’s our plan, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs, thinking that she’s ridiculous but he smiles broadly at her, “Ok, I’ll be your adoring boyfriend. Do we have pet names, sugarlips?” He leans in jokingly, smushing his lips together.

“Don’t even think about it.” Cora shoves his face away, amused, “We’re only staying for an hour and then Scott’s going to call you with an emergency. We’ll take a cab back to your place and Chris is going to pick me up there.”

“Should we be affectionate?” The taxi slows to a stop in front of a restaurant near Columbia Park. Cora laces his fingers within hers, “Not more than this. PG, you know?” She reaches over and pecks him on the cheek, “They’ll give you a hard time but they’ll secretly like you, I promise.”

“You’ve warned me plenty, don’t worry.” He assures her, rolling his eyes.

“Mmm,” Cora doesn’t sound quite as confident, but they leave the cab all the same after paying the guy. Staring in the reflection of the restaurant window, Cora smiles wistfully as she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, taking in the image of her and Stiles together.

They looked good together. Not like siblings, thankfully because her hair was darker and her face thinner. Plus she had a rosier complexion compared to Stiles’ vampire-esqe hue (the result of being on constant vigilance against sunburn and skin cancer).

He was a good three inches taller (more with his hair spiked that way) and his ‘nice’ clothes (white dress shirt, brown corduroy pants and Chucks) fit his lean frame well (even if she preferred more of a muscular look). He was age-appropriate to be sure, and holding her hand so intimately, they looked like a serious couple.

Hopefully a couple that would fool Laura and Derek. Cora’s siblings were damn perceptive but this was one situation where they were _not_ going to have the upper hand.

“They’re already here.” Cora says softly, eyes looking past their reflection to where her siblings sat, reading over the heavy leather-bound menus. Laura stylish, as Derek reached up to scratch some of his typical scruff. Bread was already on the table and Cora saw that Laura was nibbling on a piece (much to her relief-a dieting Laura was just a scarier Laura).

Cora leads Stiles towards the Hales with her laced fingers, almost careless. Every step closer, she can feel herself growing tenser. After all, this is the first little piece of her new college life that her siblings meet.

Even if it is a lie in the form of Stiles Stilinski, a three-year pain-in-her-butt.

But he was also a really good friend thanks to their best friends. When Scott and Kira started to date, Stiles and Cora grew used to each other, even fond.

Also, they were the only ones who knew that she had a hot and heavy relationship with an engineering professor (Cora was a Sports Studies major with a Psychology minor). As a result, Cora’s options for hoodwinking her brother and sister were fairly limited to Stiles (Scott and Kira were both terrible liars for this sort of deception).

Stiles would do. He cleaned up nicely and he-hopefully, hopefully-would remember to filter. She even gave him a list of NO topics and YES topics (there were more of the former than the latter).

Laura stands up to hug her, already squealing. Cora embraces her big sister, grateful to see her. After all it’s been a long two months since she’s last seen Laura.

“How’s California?” Cora asks, smiling wider as she takes in Laura who looks better than fuzzy memory served. But that’s always the case with Laura, who radiates in both personality and appearance.

“Not quite as rainy.” She teases, before sitting back down, leaning over the table with a spark in her eyes, “But that might just be Derek.”

“Shut up Laura.” Derek half-growls before reaching over as Cora bent down—a typically awkward hug, “Cor.”

“Der.” Cora pets him lightly on his stubbled cheek. Derek was fastidious about his scruff, “You look good.”

He grunts as he glances behind her, at Stiles, one thick eyebrow crooked. Cora squeezes just a little bit tighter before turning to look at Stiles with a hesitant smile.

“Stiles, meet my brother, Derek, and my sister, Laura. Don’t take anything they say seriously.”

“Hi.” Stiles says awkwardly, extending his hand out to Derek

Derek looks at him as his eyebrow slinks back down to its usual place. Stiles can’t help but notice that while all three Hales have hazel eyes, Derek’s are the greenest.

“Dork, you’re supposed to shake his hand.” Laura teases him as she scoots over for Cora to sit down on her side. Stiles will sit across from her, next to Derek.

Derek shakes Stiles’ hand exactly once before dropping it, “Him?” He half drawls out to Cora, and she can pick up his note of incredulity.

“Mine.” Cora responds to him, her mind conjuring up a picture of dazzling blue eyed silver fox. She takes a sip of her water, mentally reminding herself not to check her phone for a text.

“So _Stiles_ ,” Laura jumps in, ignoring the pseudo-conversation between Cora and Derek (after all, they mostly talked with facial expressions), “Tell us about yourself. Are you also a senior?”

“No ma’am, but I will be next year.” He’s smiling, but she can see his nervousness showing, “Not much to know. I was born and raised about twenty minutes away, in one of the suburbs. I decided to live here in the city for college. I’m pre-law with a double major in Sociology and Government. My guilty pleasures are crappy B-list movies, Pop Rocks, Wikipedia and Marvel comic books. I love your sister.”

He takes a sip of his water and Cora’s heart swells with love for him. After all, everything he said is true.

“Your voice sounds—it’s different.” Derek says, squinting at Stiles, “The voice I heard on the phone-it was deeper...”

Cora groans. She’d been doing her makeup and asked Chris to pick up her ringing cell, thinking it was just Kira. Wonder of wonders, Derek had chosen that moment to for his Semi-Annual Phone Call (he usually emailed).

“Thanks man, maybe I should look into phone sex operator as a viable career.” Stiles says cheekily, taking it in stride as Laura laughs, “So what do you do again, Derek, I forgot what Cora told me.”

Cora’s amused by the small spots of pink on Derek’s cheeks.

“I uh, mess around, write things sometimes.” He shrugs, grabbing a piece of bread to eat.

“Oh Derek,” Laura rolls her eyes, “Stop degrading your occupation.” She turns to Stiles, “Derek’s a writer. His first book got shortlisted for some awards. The second just came out a few weeks ago. It’s still at the top of the Amazon best-selling list for historical fiction. His third comes out in November. He’s editing that one when he isn’t procrastinating by outlining his fourth book.”

Derek glares at Laura, probably for divulging so much personal information. Cora keeps her amusement to herself. She always forgets how oppositional Laura and Derek are.

“Oh nice.” Stiles smiles politely, before turning to Cora, “Derek’s not much of a talker, huh?”

“He’s got a quota of 300 words each month.” Cora says flippantly. It’s an old family joke, but it still makes Derek smile. Even Laura laughs along with Stiles.

“Glad I don’t have a quota, I’d probably get fined every month.” Stiles grins at her, not looking at all freaked out by her half-feral brother and overly eager sister.

The waiter comes over, smiling widely.

“Welcome to Felicity!” He does a double take at Stiles before blushing, “Sorry, I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” He laughs lightly, “ _Never mind_!”

“I get that a lot,” Stiles reassures him, “Just one of these faces. I’d love to hear the specials though.”

Cora doesn’t miss the way that Derek frowns as he turns to look at Stiles. She tenses, but Laura puts an arm over her shoulder and asks her about her thesis paper. Nothing happens with Derek’s steady gaze and eventually he turns back to his sisters, looking as neutral as ever. Cora lets out a soft breath, relieved that Stiles passed whatever Boyfriend Test Derek had in his head.

The rest of the meal passes without much incident until Stiles gets up to use the bathroom. Derek decides he has to go, a scant thirty seconds later.

Laura laughs, turning to Cora, “He’s going to give your _boyfriend_ the big-bro warning. That’s practically the Derek Hale Seal of Approval.”

“Stop.” Cora groans, sighing, “I’m glad you guys like Stiles though. He’s…he’s really important to me.” 

“Well you’re important to us so I’m glad I like him.” Laura grins, “We already have an Uncle Peter to avoid, right?”

Cora laughs, leaning over to hug her sister. She missed sister-hugs. Laura squeezed back, tight, like she’d never let go.

And Derek was in the men’s room, alone with Stiles. He had caught the similarity at first-it’d been the impish point of his nose that drew comparison, but this is Cora’s boyfriend. They’d been dating for about a year and a half now, apparently.

So no, this wasn’t Fucking_BuckyBarnes with milky skin and scores of beauty marks. It wasn’t the boy whose tapered fingers curled around silicone toys, fucking himself to often-graceful completion. There is no universe where Derek can even allow himself to accept that he’s jerked off multiple times to the same mouth that claimed to love his little sister. Just…no.

But the description matched. Granted it’d been just over seven months since the last video, but it was him, down to the nose. His hair was longer, making him more delectable. Derek half longed to card his hands through it, feel how it handled his grip.

“So, is this the part where I promise never to hurt your sister? Because that goes without saying, I assure you. Cora’s got a mean right hook.”

“I taught her.” Derek finishes washing his hands as Stiles zips up. Stiles doesn’t notice how Derek’s hands grip the edges of the sink.

“Why did you stop posting those videos, Fucking_Bucky?” Derek asks quietly, unable to help himself.

Stiles jerks up, eyes wide.

“Damn, it is you.” Derek groans, shaking his head as he tries to purge the image of Stiles’ wide pink lips, “I can’t believe it.”

“Look-” Stiles’ voice is dry, “Cora-and our waiter probably-knows I did these videos. I needed the money for tuition. I know it sounds shady but it paid well and I stopped after my dad got a raise in August.”

Derek frowns, looking at him, “Cora’s never done-she’s never been _filmed_ , has she?” He sounds sick at the idea. He’s seen all of Stiles’ videos-they’re always solo performances. 

“Oh no, _no_! That was strictly just me trying to get money to cover tuition.” Stiles reassures him, anxious. The porn videos aren’t _great_ but Cora knows about them-she went with him to buy the adult toys and his (scant) wardrobe.

Derek frowns, “Are you having sex with her?”

“That’s a heavy question.” Stiles stammered out eventually, trying to think. Technically they _have_ engaged in consensual (and incredibly drunk) groping hand-jobs but he’s not the type of guy to share. Instead, his cheeks are boiling as he curses himself, “It’s not really your business, man.”

Derek nods slowly, unsure whether he believes Stiles or not.

“I remember the things you’d say. You wanted to blow an uncircumcised dick.”

“I uh-that’s very specific of you…I don’t—it’s been a while.” Stiles feels like his voice box is broken but he manages to get the sentence out.

“I remember it because I have one.”

Stiles nearly falls over despite the fact that he’d been standing in one place, perfectly still (for Stiles, that is). He readjusts himself, standing up straighter against the door.

“Did you ever?” Derek asks softly, his voice is soft, almost a caress and it does things to Stiles’ gut.

“No.” Stiles admitted, steeling himself with the resolve to not chance a peek at Derek’s lower half. They’re eye-to-eye, mutual attraction rising high.

“You’re my sister’s boyfriend?”

“…I love your sister.”

There’s a long, stilted pause. Stiles can’t look away from Derek’s freakishly neutral face as he registers the answer. It’s on the tip of Stiles’ tongue to explain that it’s a platonic love full of affection. But he _promised_ Cora. He promised her.

Stiles scratches his jaw, “I-uh, the videos are very down-low and hush-hush, so I’d appreciate it if it stayed between you, me and Cora. And the waiter, I guess.”

“The only time you hushed was when you deep-throated that green dildo,” Derek drawls, eyes sharp. What is wrong with him? Derek wants to smack himself, but he can’t stop.

“Oh that was not fun. I ate nothing but ice cream and Jello for two days after that video.” Stiles makes a face, his heart hammering, “It’s better with the real thing. Less plasticky.”

“I know.” Derek grins as Stiles can’t help but let out a noise of desire. He desperately wants to lean into Derek, grip Derek’s worn Henley (who wears a _Henley_ to a semi-formal restaurant?) and just… _inhale_ him. But—

“We should go back and be on our best behavior,” Stiles suggests instead. Ugh, he’s having trouble smiling properly. He’s certain that his face is just out of control at this point. Derek doesn’t look much better, with his eyes diluted, a flash of tongue peeking out to lick his bottom lip… _hnngh_.

“Best behavior,” Derek murmurs softly before leaving the restroom. Stiles catches his breath, reorienting himself. The door closes as his head rests against the tiled wall. He’s breathing hard, trying not to think about stubble-burn and calloused hands gripping his hair.

Damn, damn, damn. But _damn_.

As soon as he can will his erection down (grossly thankful now for the time that Scott made him look at a weird thing on his ass-a surprisingly hairy pimple), Stiles washes his face with cold water. There’s only fifteen more minutes or so before Scott’s to call.

Another deep breath and Stiles walks back out to the table. Laura and Cora are chuckling quietly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Derek.” Laura rolls her eyes, smiling affectionately at her brother, “We were speculating about what kind of threats he told you.”

“Beat you with a shovel and dump you in a shallow ditch, things like that.” Cora explains, rolling her eyes.

“I prefer more of a slow torture.” Derek looks at Stiles, his voice like velvet, “Tie you up, maybe, decorate your body in bruises. Laura’s more likely to go the one-two shovel route.”

Stiles swallows (thankful that fear and desire look really fucking similar on his face), “How illuminating.”

“Derek has the patience of a rock unless he’s standing in line.” Cora smiles affectionately at her brother, “And Laura is impatient in pretty much every circumstance.”

“She used to unwrap all the Christmas presents early just so she’d know what everything was.” Derek grins, taking another bite of his steak.

Laura rolls her eyes, “Cora helped, in my shoddy defense.”

“I was too young to know any better.” Cora defends, “Besides I don’t do that anymore, do I?”

“No, you just give us an emailed list of what to buy.” Stiles reminds her, laughing as he adds, “She was so pissed when Kira ignored it and decided to hand knit her a scarf instead.”

“A _little_ pissed.” Cora admitted ruefully.

“Sounds like her,” Laura laughs, “Cora likes being in control of everything. Our parents joke that she’s actually the oldest and I’m the youngest. You guys fit well though, since you’re young. I've always thought Cora needed a young, immature type.”

“I just don’t like surprises.” Cora's voice is tense as she crosses her arms.

Stiles ducks his head, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He knows it's because her real boyfriend is anything but young and immature.

“Dessert?” Derek asks the table, as if he can sense an tense moment coming between the two sisters.

“Sounds good.” Laura, oblivious, signals the waiter as Stiles’ phone buzzes- _Scott_.

“Oh sorry, I have to take this.” He apologizes, walking away to the bathroom foyer, answering,

“Scott?”

“Hey man, here’s the designated emergency call for you. Cora says I’m supposed to say that I sprained my ankle falling down the stairs and you’re going to take me to the Providence ER.”

“Gotcha.” Stiles sighs, “Her brother is really hot. Like the off-the-charts fireman calendar level of hotness”

“You’re supposed to be pretend-boning Cora and not fantasy-boning her brother.”

“I’m very aware.” Stiles rakes a hand through his hair, not knowing how to get into the rest of it without the ‘emergency’ call being too long, “I should get off the phone. See you soon.” He hangs up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

He gets away fairly quickly with Cora, both of them apologizing to Laura and Derek. Much to his surprise, Laura insists that Stiles take Derek sightseeing since she’s planning to go shopping with Cora.

Stiles can’t help but agree, looking at Derek’s cool, almost collected gaze. Cora doesn’t seem very worried about Derek and Stiles spending time together for her part.

He meant to tell her about his attraction to Derek in the cab ride home, but Chris calls and distracts Cora.

And so Stiles found himself alone in bed, on Day 42 of his dry spell. He couldn’t help gripping his heavy cock as he thought of Derek’s gaze, the stubble of his jawline and his honey-thick voice promising to tie Stiles up.

He wonders which of his videos Derek watched. Stiles never watched himself—he found it more of a boner-killer than anything else. But it was a turn on to fantasize about that scruffy man watching a video of him, maybe licking his bottom lip like he did with the steak he ordered.

Stiles half hissed, thumbing the head of his cock, spreading the sticky precum as his free hand reaches over to the first drawer in his nightstand. He tried to picture Derek’s cock, complete with foreskin, a huge red monster probably. Derek seemed like the type to ignore it, linger and tease, try and come untouched even.

Stiles’ strokes himself swiftly, absently flicking one of his nipples in time as he pictures Derek watching him. Those green eyes focused on him, that _hunger_ he saw in the bathroom.

He came toe-curling hard.

And again the next morning.

And maybe another time just before he stepped out to meet Derek at Courthouse Square. But Stiles was a healthy twenty-two year old boy, that’s all.

 

“Cora said there’s a farmer’s market.” Derek frowns, scanning the empty park. 

“That’s on Mondays…in June. Cora also said that you really like the river, so I thought it’d be cool to go down the Columbia?” Stiles grins, holding up tickets, “You’re not like boat-sick or anything are you?”

“No.” Derek gazes at him, “Cora gets motion-sickness though.”

“I know. She came with me for my dad’s birthday a few months ago. I had to hold her hair in a janky rest-stop bathroom and buy multiple packs of Tic-Tacs. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Oh. Your dad’s met her?”

“Dad loves her whole snarky personality shtick.” Stiles chuckles, “Plus she _totally_ sneaks him her fries.”

Derek nods, gazing at Stiles, “How’d you guys meet?”

“Our best friends fell in love. They convinced us to do a bowling foursome thing and argued the whole time about sock etiquette.” Stiles smiles fondly at the memory

“Romantic.”

“I guess.” Stiles turns to look at Derek, his eyes crinkling, “What about you? I know Laura’s married but I don’t think Cora’s ever mentioned you dating someone.”

Derek shrugs, “I don’t do well in relationships, except for sex.”

Stiles nods jerkily, heart pounding, “Oh.”

“And you have my sister.” He adds offhandedly.

“Yeah.” Stiles can't help his mild tone of regret, cursing his promise to Cora.

They don’t talk for a while after that. Instead they sit on the boat, side by side. The warmth of Derek’s broad shoulders are coercing Stiles to rest his head there, but he steels himself, counting down from May 18th, thinking of Scott’s hairy ass pimple.

He doesn’t see Derek again on that visit. It’d be too hard to restrain himself, honestly. But Cora is happy, Chris remains her dirty secret and Stiles has two new Facebook friends. One he stalks with alarming regularity, writing out conversations in his head.

 

II

 

Derek stares at his Microsoft Word document, almost gnashing his teeth at the idea. He shouldn’t do it, he really shouldn’t. The two characters weren’t meant to end up together, but he kept revisiting them, writing them in scenes together. 

Derek groans, shaking his head as he realizes that he really is going to redo his entire plot development for the second half of this fucking book. But it wouldn’t work any other way.

_“You’re picking me?” DB looks at him, whiskey-brown eyes blinking in astonishment. Ty can’t help coming closer until they’re chest to chest, inhaling the smoky-sweet scent of his lover._

_“It’s always been us, D.”_

Derek groans, resting his hands off the keyboard. That feels so much more… _right_. But he needs to invent a new character now and fucking hell, this is the second half of the final book. What is wrong with him? He’s investing more in these two minor characters instead of his hero by doing this.

But this is right. This is how the story is supposed to end for Ty and DB. It’s Derek’s own fault for deciding to describe DB similarly to someone who had the user handle Fucking_BuckyBarnes.

And hell, if Derek can’t have Cora’s boyfriend, at least Ty can have DB. That seems fair.

 

III

All the seniors, Cora included, are freaking out over the fact that their commencement exercises start this weekend. Cora’s entire family is arriving tomorrow morning, excited to celebrate. They still think that Stiles is her boyfriend.

Cora paces in her small living room, as Kira, Chris and Stiles sat on the couch. Everyone knows better than to try and give her advice. Cora needs to pace, to think, to see her support system (Scott is on shift at the animal shelter, but there in spirit). Eventually, she stops, looking resigned.

“I’m pregnant. I think six weeks or something.”

“What?” Stiles half chokes as Chris all but launches himself at her, kissing her face everywhere before going down on bent knee,

“I was planning to do this during your graduation dinner, but this is a better moment.” He laughs, his eyes soft on her, “I think of you as _my_ family, Cora.” He pulls out an engagement ring, hand shaking as she lets out an audible gasp, “I’d love it if we could make it official, darling.”

Cora nods, smiling broadly. As he slips the ring on her finger, she hugs him tightly. Kira can’t help but join their hug and Stiles is a sucker for a good group hug too.

“I should just tell them everything straight out, first chance I get after the ceremony.” Cora says firmly, inhaling deeply as her brain goes back to the realization that her family will be in her space, en masse.

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees, his gaze soft, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s been pretty much two years now, Cora.”

“But it’s up to you.” Chris says quietly, his hands gripping hers, “I’d wait forever for you.”

Cora nods, gazing at him with steely determination: “I’m going to tell my family tomorrow that I plan to have a spring wedding with a man named Christopher Argent. If they hate you, we’ll elope.”

“Fair.” Chris pecks her on the forehead as he hugs her, smiling widely, “We’re going to have a _baby_.”

“Will you guys be the godparents?” Cora asks, smiling weakly at him, at Kira, still in Chris’ embrace.

Stiles’ soft confirmation isn’t quite as loud as Kira’s gleeful ‘Yes!’ but it’s equally heartfelt. He’s going to have a baby in his life. Surely it’ll help with the family issue. Cora’s got to be overreacting about their response to her relationship with Chris.

It’ll probably be awkward with some outraged screaming, but there’s no way that things won’t end nicely. After all, there’s a baby now.

Unfortunately, it’d been a veritable disaster. Derek walked out without a word to anyone. Angry, emotional screaming ensued. Fighting broke out between Uncle Peter and Chris. Neighbors called the cops. The two beat officers, grim faced, refused to arrest Chris because Cora was twenty-two and consented. They left, warning everyone to keep it down.

Cora followed them out with Chris, interlaced hands gripped together over her flat belly where a month old fetus grew inside her womb. Laura and Mrs. Hale held each other on the couch, shaking silently. The enraged uncle vibrated with anger as his wife murmured soft nothings into his ear.

Chris had a younger half-sister, Laura explained to Stiles. They weren’t close, granted, but close enough that it counted when his sister (hell-bent on revenge against Peter for marrying another woman) seduced Derek and set fire to the house. Her actions hospitalized almost all of the Hales. Several members-Cora’s grandparents, her father, her twin brother, a younger cousin and a beloved aunt-ended up in the morgue.

 

 

Stiles left that night, knowing there wasn’t anything else he could do. His mind raced as he shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the fact that it was May and far from the typical frigidity of an Oregon night. 

But he felt cold all over, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as Cora’s family fell apart.

And Derek-he just left. Not a bolt because he grabbed his jacket from the closet, but he left all the same after Cora let Chris in with a soft kiss on his cheek.

Stiles had been tempted to follow, but for all the wrong reasons. Especially now that he knew how screwed up Derek must’ve been after his relationship with Kate. The family charged her with statutory, Derek testified, and she was also indicted for arson and manslaughter. And now, while she was behind bars for life, Derek was something of a ghost to his family.

His heart ached to soothe Derek.

And his eyes-Stiles blinked, looking closer at the front stoop of his apartment-if he wasn’t hallucinating, Derek sat on the concrete steps, rubbing two rocks together. His face was as neutral as ever.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He stands up, gruff. The rocks clatter to the ground.

Stiles holds up his hands, the universal sign for ‘that’s cool, bro’ and gives Derek a tentative smile, “Fine.”

“You’re not her boyfriend." 

“She wanted me to pretend.” Stiles is relieved that he can at least be upfront with Derek now, despite the complete clusterfuck that is Cora’s life now. There’s a long pause as they stare at each other under the flickering porch light.

“Still uncircumcised?” Stiles closed his eyes, groaning inwardly for asking such a stupid question.

“Interested?” Derek steps down, now face to face with Stiles. Thank god Derek’s into it.

“Very.” Stiles’ breath is ragged, almost weak.

“Can I stay?” Derek’s voice is softer too, almost vulnerable and Stiles can’t help but surge toward Derek’s mouth.

It’s surprisingly chaste at first, close-mouthed and lingering. His head is singing in bursts of discordant noise as Derek presses back, sliding his tongue against Stiles’ bottom lip. There’s spit and tongue everywhere, their kisses sloppy as fingers skimming shirts, palms cupping buttocks.

“Please.” Stiles exhales, deeply as he pulls out his house key. Derek buries his head into Stiles neck, laving as he drapes himself over Stiles, the jut of his denim-covered erection shamelessly poking Stiles’ lower back.

Clumsily, they manage by some miracle make it into Stiles’ bedroom without getting distracted by the process of divesting their clothes. Scott wouldn’t mind the messy trail of clothing or the picture frames crooked on the hallway walls but he’d be freaked out to see Derek’s gorgeous globular ass.

“Oh god, you’re fucking sex on a stick, I can’t believe I’m technically the porn star in this bed.” Stiles muttered, hands ghosting over a warm chest as he settles himself on top of Derek. Tense and coiled with anticipation, Stiles knows his cock is stiff, but he wants to draw this out, have Derek shattering in a million pieces.

The bed is on the small side for a full, but fits two people decently. Especially with Stiles astride Derek like this, reverently laying kisses at Derek’s disgustingly hot abdominal muscles. Derek’s slowly grinding up into Stiles’ thigh, gaze hot on Stiles as he lets out little noises that Stiles is determined to magnify.

“I kept watching those videos, wanted to stuff-” Derek’s hand cups Stiles ass, squeezing before he grazes the curve, “-all my fingers in there, see you fall apart and beg.”

“Christ, fuck me.” Stiles is practically breathless, fumbling with his nightstand to grab the lubricant.

“I like the idea of you worshipping me.” Derek leans over to lick Stiles’ nipple, a teasing finger dipping down, firmly resting against Stiles’ rim. Stiles lets out a moan, unable to stop himself from clenching around that wiggling dry finger.

Stiles manages to re-situate himself on top of Derek’s hips, trying to stop his eyes from glazing over. Derek lets out a soft grunt, just watching Stiles. He can’t take that almost unholy green-eyed gaze and bends over, wanting to kiss Derek raw, their cocks bracketed together within the narrow space, pre-ejaculate streaking in the style of a Pollack painting.

It’s their sloppiest kiss yet, as Derek’s free hand firmly grips Stiles’ hip. The other hasn’t moved from his ass where that thick, hardly-moving fingertip is causing clenches of mindless pleasure through Stiles’ lithe body.

Shaking, Stiles manages to hand off the lube, sucking Derek’s right earlobe. He’s too caught up in how good everything feels, to hear the _snick_ of the cap. But he definitely notices when Derek presses his finger down slightly, going past the rim (even if it’s like two bullshit centimeters) before moving his entire hand to Stiles’ other hip, gripping it.

Stiles lets out a soft whine, sticking his ass out as he registers the loss. But he doesn’t have to wonder long because the bastard _jams_ two hot, slicked up fingers into Stiles, burying them as deep as he can.

“Fuuuck,” Stiles can’t help his strangled moan, gripping jerkily at Derek’s sweaty hair.

Derek’s not much better, just grunting as those glossy fingers slide in and out with brutal efficiency. His tongue obscenely mimicks those compact fingers, licking Stiles’ responsive neck. Stiles can’t stop _rabbiting_ against Derek, hips stuttering when they’re not in overdrive.

“A-Another.” He manages to get out as his hand reaches down to squeeze himself in an effort to stave off his oncoming orgasm. He can’t resist reaching for Derek’s own cock, managing to run the pad of his hand from root to sticky tip.

Derek’s hand smacks Stiles’ ass, “Don’t-I wanna last.” Stiles lets go, moaning louder when Derek sinks three slick fingers knuckle deep, crooking them _just right_. He rubs, causing Stiles to keen, pushing his ass even harder against those talented fingers and the pinkie slips in almost effortlessly.

Stiles can’t help arching off, like he’s in a fucking pop-up book. Derek groans, watching him ride on four fingers, “Fuck-fuck-you’re so-”

“I’m stuffed with all your fingers.” Stiles tells him hotly, panting as he falls again on Derek, chest-to-chest (and cock-to-cock). Derek pushes him just a little bit _higher_ and their mouths slot together as his fingers continue their inner rhythm.

“I’m ready. I’m _so_ ready for you.” Stiles gasps, managing to reach away and pluck a condom from the nightstand. Sitting up again, he rips the foil with his teeth. At the same time his ass clenches _hard_ around those fingers, milking them and he’s rewarded with a filthy moan.

Derek pulls out, softly panting as he manages to roll the condom on, his other hand blindly seeking out the lubricant.

“Want you to top,” Stiles pleads, grateful for the brief lull as he takes in the slight curve of Derek, engorged and throbbing. His is thicker than Stiles’, flushed a deep red and throbbing.

Without hesitation, Derek flips them with his legs. Stiles is quick to hook his ankles around Derek, grinning broadly. Derek’s hand latch onto the damn lubricant, grasping it as he wriggles to loom a little more over Stiles’ willing, flushed body. He can’t help drinking in those almost-mischievous tawny eyes practically daring him to do something profane, watching him slick up his condom-covered dick.

Stiles’ cock pulsates jerkily between their bodies. The crown of his dick is practically soaked in anticipation and Derek palms it briefly, turned on by the soft grunt it inspires from Stiles.

“You fuck. In me.” He glares at Derek’s subsequent laugh, pushing himself into the older man’s space.

Derek spreads Stiles and wastes no time in guiding himself in with the patience of a (impure) saint. He surges slowly, inch at a time, his sweat dripping onto Stiles. He peppers open-mouthed, almost biting kisses on the moles decorating salty-slick skin, distracting himself from the sweet tightness of Stiles’ ass.

Stiles either sucks in his breath ( _wait, wait_ ) or lets out soft, high pitched noises of longing ( _another, slow, another_ ).

“You’re so fucking-fuck.” Derek manages to tell him, ragged. He meant to say beautiful, but hopefully that context comes across.

Stiles’ laugh is half-hoarse, the shaking causing his ass to clench deliciously. Derek groans at the unexpected beat. Stiles half croons, reaching up to stroke Derek’s sweat-saturated hair,

“You gentleman,” He smoothly pushes _up_ , until Derek’s balls are intimate with Stiles’ crack, “Harder…f-fucking _fuck_!”

“Oh yeah?” Derek grins, almost feral as he draws himself out, his head skimming at Stiles’ rim. Stiles keens again, this one the loudest yet.

A beat later, Derek’s ramming into him so hard that Stiles’ mouth falls open. Moans and that tongue out in near-ecstasy as he grips Derek’s shoulders, hips canting in perfect time to hard, indefatigable thrusts that hit Stiles _just_ right thanks to that curve.

High on adrenaline, Derek gets ahold of Stiles’ cock, furiously working it between their tangled bodies. Stiles can’t stop his whimpers and groaning, his body temperature rising as he exults in the sticky-hot feeling spreading through his body, a spray of white splattering Derek’s pectorals as his ass clenches _down_.

And fuck if Derek isn’t still pounding down on him. While his pace is pleasantly brutal, his thrusts have shallowed in deference of Stiles’ post-orgasmic sensitivity. All the same, Stiles can’t help but freaking wail, unable to verbally contain his pleasure. Shaking, Derek plunges deep once more, massive and overwhelming as his own pleasure is buried into a sterile condom barrier between the two of them.

As Derek slumps onto him, Stiles manages to wrangle him to the side, mumbling his deep satisfaction with noises. They lay there together, legs loosely tangled as Stiles’ fingers slide through the tacky mess on Derek’s chest, tracing out little hearts.

He’s vaguely aware of Derek shifting around a bit, probably washing off their sexy mess, but Stiles is too blissed out to really register anything until Derek returns to the bed, putting Stiles’ arms around him as if he never left.

As the sunlight poured through Stiles’ window, he woke up to feel Derek. Blearily he plastered himself to Derek’s back, smiling as he drops open mouthed kisses all over that hot tattoo, softly rubbing his morning wood against Derek’s thigh, not really thinking about anything but a second round.

Just as Derek starts to respond, grinding back into Stiles, the landline goes off and Stiles groans. The only person who’d call him on that phone is his father.

His father who told him that he’d be driving into town tomor- _today_.

“That’s my dad, I have to answer.” Stiles mumbles, regretting it, “We’re supposed to do a father/son day today because I’m starting my internship Wednesday and he wanted to spend time with me.”

“Go,” Derek turns around, reaching to stroke Stiles’ cheek. He looks sleepy and all things beautiful, “I’ll stay here until you come back.”

Stiles opens his mouth but the phone is ringing shrilly and Derek grabs it for him, wincing.

“Hi Dad.” Stiles answers, yawning widely. Derek closes his eyes, looking like he’s at peace instead of hiding from his family and their strife. Stiles can’t help but stroke his hair, fluffing out the front as Derek lets out a quiet snuffle, rubbing his face against the soft pillow.

“Hi son, I just crossed the Willamette. Should be near your apartment in twenty minutes or so. What do you want to do for breakfast?”

“No, no meet me at Sally’s in the Pearl District. We’ll do pancakes and bacon to celebrate. I promise to be on time.”

Stiles can’t help a vague fantasy about drizzling maple syrup in the dips of Derek’s abdominal muscles and licking them. Long swipes, kitten licks, sucking…

“Sounds good to me, son. See you in a half hour or else I’m ordering chocolate chips with mine.” His father hangs up as Stiles groans, unwilling to leave his bed. After all, the last time it had a body in it (besides himself) was…damn, he’d lost track of how long his dry spell ran.

He reaches over Derek, putting the phone back on its base. Derek’s hand is quick to squeeze his ass and Stiles’ eager cock jumps.

“Derek…I only have like fifteen minutes…and that’s a lie.” Stiles groans, forcing himself away, “But you are welcome to stay here and come up with a list of different things we should do in this bed and we will do all of them between tonight and...”

Stiles frowns, realizing that Derek lives in California, “…when you go home, I guess-when is that? Dibs on driving you to PDX.”

Derek sighs, gazing at Stiles, “Tomorrow night.”

“So we’ll do 24 hours.” Stiles reaches over and kisses him lightly on the mouth before groaning as he dips his head against Derek’s well formed pectoral muscle, voice muffled: “If it wasn’t my dad…”

“Go,” Derek drops a soft kiss on Stiles’ shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll bring maple syrup.” Stiles finally gets out of the bed. Derek quirks an eyebrow, unsure what it means but he’s exhausted anyway. And so, he falls back to sleep as Stiles dresses.

Stiles left Derek a plate of toast, grape jelly and a note: _You’re welcome to anything. Emergency key’s under the mat if you need it. See you at 7:30 PM for dinner_.

Cora calls while he and Dad are at the farmer’s market, squabbling over the kale, sounding worried. Her family is still in a snit, but they can’t find Derek and everyone’s is worrying.

It’s awkward to explain Derek is in his house but he thinks he does a good job covering up the fact that they’re planning on having an intense, obscene sexathon. Cora thanks him for taking Derek in, apologizes even, for getting Stiles involved with the drama of her family.

He’s quick to shut her worries down, reassuring her that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Never mind the fact that Stiles is very much a fan of Derek Hale. Especially naked Derek Hale in his bed.

And so, when Stiles returns that night, it’s with a container of maple syrup and a half-rehearsed speech about how Derek had to call a Hale, check in.

He didn’t expect to see Derek dumping pasta into a bowl, the smell of marinara in the air and the table set for two.

“Scott’s nice.” Derek looks up at him, “He told me you like spaghetti with meat sauce.”

“I do.” Stiles grins, “And _oh man!_ Is that garlic bread I smell?” He asks, groaning as Derek nods in confirmation.

“Scott here? You didn’t have to make dinner.” He ate earlier with his dad, but Derek doesn’t need to know that. Besides it wasn’t much-just soup and salad.

“You made breakfast. He’s out with Kira.” Derek stirs the sauce, “He told me that they’re moving in together on Saturday.”

“Yeah, across the street. I’ll have to put up roommate notices.” Stiles walks over to Derek, unable to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Derek’s bulk, resting his head against that broad shoulder, “Dinner smells amazing.”

“Simple meal.” Derek pours the tomato sauce over the pasta, content with Stiles’ grip around him, “Milk or water?”

“I’ll get it. What do you want? We have beer too, but it’s crappy.”

“Milk.”

Stiles kisses the nape of Derek’s neck, just where the hairline ends before peeling himself off in the name of refreshments.

“Your dad gone?”

“As of fifteen minutes ago, yes.” Stiles sets two glasses of milk on the table, admiring the set up. The table is even empty of schoolwork and other crap thanks to Kira insisting that they Spring Purge their apartment before Scott packed up his stuff.

Usually he and Scott just eat on their couch, watching whatever VHI “Best Of” is marathoning, “I’m _all_ yours.”

Derek makes a noise that’s a cross between a rumble and an _hmph_. Stiles isn’t sure how to interpret it, but decides to chalk it up to hunger.

He hesitates, “When should I drive you to the airport?”

“No need.”

“Laura’s picking you up?”

Derek’s eyes shutter as he sets the food on the table, “I cancelled my ticket.”

Stiles sets the milk carton down on the table, staring at Derek in disbelief, “You wanna stay…with me?”

“More like stay away from…” Derek shrugs, letting the sentence go unfinished. Instead he pulls the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Ok.” Stiles sits down, unsure of how to respond, really. He wants Derek, of course, but Derek doesn’t really _do_ relationships. He said so himself.

“So we’re going to live together?”

He gazes at Stiles, the pause long and drawn out, “If that’s too weird for you-”

“No.” Stiles nods slowly, starting to get the picture of what Derek wants from him, “No, no, that’s fine. Just uh-your mom called me. She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“Hard to be when I wasn’t before.” Derek says grimly, setting food on Stiles’ plate, “I left the list you asked for in the bedroom, next to the condoms."

“What list? Oh, _that_ list!” Stiles hesitated, his mind whirling, “I’m excited to see that list.”

“Good.” Derek smiles, taking a seat and Stiles follows his lead.

“How was your dad?”

It’s the first of many meals that they share at the table. Granted, the sauce is a little too peppery and the bread charred on the bottom. Regardless, Stiles compliments Derek’s efforts and breaks out his 8 oz. container of Vermont maple syrup, enticing Derek upstairs to the bedroom for dessert.

They end up using the whole bottle and ruining the sheets.

Laura drops off Derek’s suitcase and hugs him tightly. They don’t say much and she doesn’t linger.

Stiles starts his job as the newest summer intern (complete with tie) for a legal aid office near Belmont (fucking far, but worth it). He’s got loads of paperwork, but the job is interesting and he likes his boss’ passion for fighting against housing discrimination.

Derek writes at the table when they aren’t using it for eating dinner. Stiles likes him there-it looks right.

They help Scott officially move out of the apartment. Scott only has three boxes left of crap. He and Stiles fight over who gets their superglued beer can pyramid. Scott’s Scissors trumps Stiles’ Paper (much to Kira’s dismay and Derek’s rolled eyes).

Kira invites them to stay for dinner and the conversation is surprisingly easy. It turns out that Derek and Kira are history buffs, excited to swap their favorite ridiculous conspiracy theories and slam various History Channel documentaries. Scott likes Derek too, but it’s a quieter appreciation conveyed through offering Derek a beer. Derek even swings an open invitation to Potluck Poker Thursdays.

Sunday, Derek and Stiles don’t leave their apartment. It’s the first day where it’s just _theirs_ and a great deal of fucking ensues in _all_ the rooms. Stiles hid Derek’s clothes, laughing delightedly. He’s a fan of the way Derek tackles him, hot and heavy as he tries to wring the hiding place from Stiles between gasps and moans.

Cora calls almost every day. Stiles knows better than to talk to Derek about her, not when Derek frowns and silent-walking out anger is likely to ensues just from hearing Stiles say, “So, hey, I talked to Cora today…”

But she calls because they’re best friends. Mostly it’s about the baby, Stiles’ internship, Chris doing something stupid, various wedding details. Sometimes she’ll ask about Derek. Stiles never really says words, just makes a weird sort of noise that Cora _gets_. Because it’s Derek.

She’s not talking to the Hales. But there’s something in her voice, even if she doesn’t say anything particularly sad. The baby is healthy, bouncing along from raisin sized to lime. Kira has sent her two baby care packages so far and Stiles makes a note to catch up somehow. He’s the godfather, after all.

He’s walking home from work. The subway station next to his office is closed for construction so Stiles goes toward a bus stop. But when he catches sight of a baby store, he’s unable to help himself as he looks through all the different onesies. Some are cheesy, others snarky. He pauses, staring at a pale green one with a fond smile. Cora would love that one.

So Stiles bought it, still chuckling. He made a note of sending it tomorrow, before work. Right now he wanted to hurry home, it was his night to pull dinner together. Derek sounded tired when he called before, stuck at some kind of book signing that his agent harangued him into doing. Derek hates press events.

Derek comes home as Stiles finishes the stir-fry, looking worn out: “That cat followed me home again.”

“Aw,” Stiles grins, dumping vegetables on Derek’s plate and then his, “I’ll adopt that ratty old thing if you want. Just say the word, Derek.”

Derek just scowls, “I should leave out a can of tuna.”

“I bought cat food yesterday. It’s in the pantry.” Stiles smirks at him, “Milk?”

“Water.” Derek frowns, “We’re not adopting the cat.”

“No, of course not.”

After Derek leaves the can of cat food outside for the half-drowned cat that’s been following him home for a week now, he goes back inside, tugging his food-stained shirt off (he texted Stiles at lunch, complaining that someone spilled a tray all over him).

“Let’s not do it on the table again, I’m still shocked it didn’t collapse the first time.” Stiles jokes, eyes hotly roving over Derek’s chest with satisfaction.

“I’m going to change.” Derek frowns, lightly rubbing over his scruff, “Remind me to never pick up when my agent calls.”

“I tried.” Stiles tells him cheekily, amused, “Go get changed before I demand that you have your way with my body.”

Derek lets out a harrumph that means he’s secretly amused. Stiles grins as well, happy by how comfortable it is to be with Derek here.

“Stiles?” Derek returns in a plain blue t-shirt, holding up the onesie, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Yeah babe, I’m pregnant.” He winks and Derek gives him an exasperated look.

Stiles sighs, “Who do you think it’s for? She’s, like ten weeks along now. I saw it in a store and liked it. As the godfather, I’m entitled to pick a few gifts for their baby.”

“I don’t-who’s pregnant?” Derek asked, clearly confused, “Kira?”

Stiles does a double take, “Derek…” He then realizes that Derek doesn’t talk to his family past the occasional text that he’s alive. In fact, Derek walked out before Cora announced the pregnancy or the wedding. All he saw was her kissing Chris hello.

“Oh Derek.” Stiles groans, unsure of how to say it, “It’s for _Cora_.”

Derek stares at it, reading the words in his head as it clicks: _Made with Love (plus Science)_.

“Cora’s pregnant with his baby?” Derek looks to Stiles for confirmation.

“They’re engaged.” Stiles added, rubbing the back of his neck, “She’s sending invitations out in a few weeks, I think. The baby is supposed to be like two months old then.”

Derek nods slowly, setting the onesie on the kitchen counter, “Okay.”

He sits down and starts to eat dinner. Stiles blinks, unsure of how to take this turnabout.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“…Okay.”

“You’re the godfather?”

Stiles looked at Derek. It’s surprising that he even asked anything, but he’s happy for the question. It’s good, right? “I am. Kira’s the godmother and you’re the favorite uncle.”

Derek grunts before eating the rest of his stir fry, “Maybe I’ll adopt that damn cat.”

Stiles laughs, “Great. There’s a cat collar under the sink.”

Derek chews his food, looking at Stiles with a mostly-blank expression. Stiles’ instinct is to keep talking.

“I decided to name him Fat Cat and our phone number’s on his ID tag. Scott’s coming by to do a check-up, recommend a vet to us.”

Derek smiles and Stiles feels a huge burst of _something_ in his chest.

I love you, I love you, Derek Hale, I love you.

He wants desperately to voice that fact.

But it’s been barely seven weeks. Not much of a relationship to stand on, even, beyond being roommates who sleep together. Even if they were more or less co-parenting a half-feral cat.

So Stiles sets the dirty plates in the sink, yanks his shirt off and straddles Derek in the kitchen chair, hands skimming down Derek’s shirt, feeling his chest, “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Derek’s strong, capable hands glide down Stiles’ back before cupping his ass. Stiles sucks in a breath and reaches down to move Derek’s hand, closer, _closer_ until those teasing fingers can feel the outline of Stiles’ plug.

“Oh.” Derek growls, eyes darkening, his fingers tracing the rim, “How long?”

“Since I got home two hours ago and thought you might like a slick surpris- _mmf_!” Derek doesn’t waste any time kissing Stiles, his hands shifting to unbutton Stiles’ jeans.

 

IV

 

Oregon summer comes with an unprecedented heat wave and Derek hates it. Stiles, for his part, loves summer if it means that Derek deals with it by taking off all his clothes.

He can’t get enough of watching Derek naked. He walks naked, writes naked and waters his growing collection of plants naked. Hell, he even goes in their (fenced) yard and feeds the cat naked.

Fat Cat doesn’t go inside, but he seems to think that the tiny little backyard space is certainly _his_ (or hers, they aren’t sure). He’s getting more meat on his bones.

Cora’s belly is starting to protrude.

There’s a sonogram picture on the refrigerator, along with a strip of photos that Stiles made Derek take with him in a booth by the indie movie theater. They look like idiots but Stiles loves the stupid strip because it’s the only evidence of their relationship.

His mother comes to visit and they set up Scott’s old room for her. Stiles is unsure of what Derek’s going to say, how he’s going to explain Stiles. After all, they’re roommates, right? You don’t tell moms that you’re going to crash in your roommate’s bed, right?

But there’s no conversation about it. Mrs. Hale (“Call me Talia, Stiles”) insists making Derek’s favorite meal for them on her first night. She has Derek’s eyes and his almost invisible smile. Only on her, it’s more visible.

She sees the sonogram picture on the refrigerator, “Oh someone’s having a baby!”

Derek doesn’t looks at her, eyes on the television where the Mariners game is playing on mute, “That’s Cora’s.”

“Oh.”

Stiles looks at Derek, unsure of what to do, “The morning sickness stopped a few days ago, so she’s celebrating that particular milestone with a cookie-cake.”

“You talk to her?” Talia turns around, astonished. Stiles shifts awkwardly in his seat next to Derek, unsure of why she’s so surprised. Cora is his best friend.

“He’s the godfather.” Derek says softly, taking a swig of his beer.

“She’s lonely.” Stiles can’t stop himself from adding, fiddling with his beer label. He has a habit of peeling them off if he’s trying to navigate an awkward conversation or super bored.

Talia purses her lips, “Oh.”

“I’m the uncle.” Derek adds, looking at her for the first time since this hellishly awkward conversation began, “And you’re the grandmother.”

Talia nods shakily, tears welling in her eyes. Derek stands up to hug her. It’s a long, choked hug, but a hug. He brings her to the table as Stiles shuts the kitchen television off.

“So, um, Cora’s…12 weeks?” Talia sits down, Derek giving her a glass of water before he sits himself, almost shoulder to shoulder with his mother.

“14 as of yesterday. She’s showing but doesn’t want to buy bigger clothes yet so she’s wearing mostly dresses and leggings.”

“I was vain about my clothes with Laura, and less so with Derek, but by the time I had the twins, I pretty much just lived in sweatpants. Ward would get so mad because I kept wearing his.”

“My dad.” Derek supplies at Stiles’ confused look, “He would be excited about the baby. He always wanted a lot of babies.”

Talia huffs, “He wanted eight kids. We negotiated three, ended up with four.”

Derek nods, not saying anything but he leans over to squeeze his mother’s hand, “I’ll make your meatloaf, Mom. Stiles will tell you about the pregnancy.”

She nods against him before sliding into Derek’s vacant chair, looking at Stiles, “How bad was the morning sickness? It never hit me too hard, except for Derek. With Derek, I was just an emotional, hormonal mess the whole pregnancy.”

“Derek makes me feel the same way,” Stiles jokes lightheartedly before talking a little more about the baby, sharing everything he knows. He knows that Derek’s listening despite all the indications that he wouldn’t be.

Talia stays three days in the guest room. Stiles and Derek lie together in their bed, sex off the table. They spoon like an old married couple. He likes being the little spoon.

Fat Cat was dead when they came home from the airport, lying sprawled out on a patch of grass. Stiles surprised himself by crying as Derek buried the cat where she (confirmed dead) lay, marking the small grave with a giant-ass boulder he hauled from a quarry somewhere.

Neither of them talk about it but Derek is gentle that night, dropping hot open mouthed kisses all over Stiles.

 

As the heat of summer winds down, Stiles is invited to a concert in Hawthorne. Derek doesn’t want to go (he thinks rap music is sexist, but mostly it hurts his ears) so Stiles goes with Scott. They down a few shots, whoop and holler until their throats are nearly dry and dance wildly, laughing with glee. 

Too soon, Scott leaves because he has to get up the next day at 7 AM. He and Kira are driving down south to visit her family. Stiles calls him names as Scott disappears into the crowd. Uncaring, Stiles stays for ‘one more song’, pumped up on the adrenaline of the music and the energy of the alcohol.

There’s a pretty girl there who grinds on him before he returns it. She sticks her tongue down his throat before he pushes her away, feeling a little sick.

He stumbles to the bathroom and throws up. The music throbs through the walls. Stiles groans again, shaking.

He manages to close his stall, still sitting on the grotty tiles before he pulls his phone out. He meant to call Derek.

But it’s Cora who picks up, sounding sleepy but happy to hear from him all the same.

“Hey Stiles, what’s up?”

“I’m drunk.” Stiles declares, groaning, “I’m drunk off my ass here.”

“Sounds like it,” She laughs, “You’re past drunk, though buddy. You’re _trashed_.”

“I love him. I love him so damn much.”

“What?” She’s confused, but she plays along, “Who?”

“Derek. I love Derek. But it doesn’t matter because he’s allergic to relationships.” Stiles sighs, feeling pathetic, “At least you have someone that loves all of you and not just your dick."

“Derek loves your dick?” Cora asks, blunt as ever

Stiles laughs hysterically, it’s almost a screech, “He’s the best sex I’ve ever had. He deep throats like a dre-”

“Ew, Stiles, no details.”

“He’s the best,” Stiles sighs, “I love him so damn much, but I can’t tell him. He’d leave me for someone who can give him emotionless fucking and doesn’t fight about spoon positions. I tried and now our cat is dead and I’m in love with him.”

“Oh Stiles,” Cora sighs, “Derek’s a little fucked up, yes, but he wouldn’t leave because you love him.”

“Do you think he could love me?”

“I don’t know.” She admits softly, “But I know he wouldn’t leave you unless you decided to date someone related to Kate Argent, okay? That’s the line for him as far as I can tell.”

Stiles sucks in a breath, feeling dizzy, “He misses you.”

“Mom said…but I didn’t think-really?”

“I hate how much I’m gone on him.” Stiles rattles on, unable to really register what Cora’s saying, “It was supposed to be meaningless sex. But he’s seduced me with his body and I’m ruined for everyone else because of Derek’s tigh-”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Cora groans, “Stop babbling. You need to call Scott and get a ride.”

“Scott can’t. I have to call Derek. What if I call him and confess that I love him?”

“I’ll call him for you.” Cora promises, “Just go, um, outside and wait there. I’m sure you told Derek where you were.”

“Ok, but don’t tell him I love him. And don’t tell Cora anything. If she found out we were sleeping together, it’d be so bad.”

“You can tell her,” Cora laughs, shaking her head at how drunkenly dumb Stiles is right now, “Trust me, she’s over the moon happy that you’re getting some, even if it is her emotionally constipated big brother.”

Stiles throws up into the toilet, phone clattering to the side. Thankfully the screen didn’t break.

He remembers Cora’s instructions and stumbles, managing to get himself out in the open air and breathe. Derek’s coming soon, she promised.

Sure enough, Derek arrives with a wry smile. He helps Stiles in the car, threatening him with murder if there’s any vomit on the leather. Stiles babbles the entire ride home, Derek unable to stop himself from smiling in amusement.

At some point that Stiles’ fuzzy memory doesn’t recall, they make it into the bed and he wakes up with a splitting headache, desperate for quesadillas.

Like magic, Derek gives him an Advil and the best quesadilla he’s ever eaten.

“How did you know?”

“Cora. She told me to come pick your drunk ass up and to have breakfast quesadillas ready when you woke up.” Derek smoothed out Stiles hair, “You were definitely a drunk ass.”

“Oh god, I didn’t say anything awkward to you, did I?” Stiles asks, frowning, “I don’t remember anything expect puking in the bathroom and a lot of shots with Scott.”

“I heard a very lurid description of all the things you love about my dick.” Derek smirks, “I appreciated that you numbered it, even if you lost track of the numbers.”

Stiles groans, downing the Advil, “Shoot me now.”

“I’d rather fuck you later.” Derek holds out a glass of water, “I plan to tell you an itemized list of things I love about your dick while I’m doing it.”

Stiles’ throat goes dry as he recalls the conversation with Cora. Ugh, he’d been _so drunk off his ass_.

“I kissed a girl last night.” He says instead, apropos of nothing, “I felt sick afterwards and threw up.”

“That was probably from the alcohol, not the kissing.”

“No.” Stiles groans and his head is throbbing so of course this is a perfect time for A Serious Conversation, “Look, I’m telling you this up front.”

“I get it.” Derek shrugs, fiddling with his thumbs, “But Stiles, we’re not…special.”

Stiles groaned, rubbing his head, “Well I’m not kissing or screwing with anyone else right now, okay? We function decently together. I think…” His voice trails off and he knows that Derek gets what he’s asking for.

Derek puts the empty plate on the floor before climbing back into the bed, above the covers. His eyes, that brilliant shade of green, are soft with concern. Stiles wants to paint the walls with that exact hue.

Derek sucks in a deep breath, “It scares me how much I want you, Stiles.”

The last time Derek wanted a real relationship, it ended up burning his house down and killing family members. This feels like progress and despite the throbbing numbness in his head, Stiles is starting to feel hopeful.

“So it can’t go anywhere. Which means you have to move on from me.”

“What-so-so, you’re going to just be hung up on me?” Stiles asks, confused by his suggestion.

“No, not always.” Derek shrugs, “At some point, I’ll get…restless. I don’t want to hurt you more than—I need to be meaningless to you, even if you’re meaningful to me, because that won’t last.”

Stiles groans, cursing himself for choosing to fall in love with such an emotionally damaged fuck-up of a human being.

“What was your longest relationship?”

Technically, they’ve been living together now for three and a half months. Derek flops in the bed besides Stiles, sounding just as exhausted.

“Six months. It was our six month anniversary when Kate killed them.”

Stiles reaches over to cuddle Derek, spooning him into little-spoon position. He strokes Derek’s broad arms, trying to think of a new topic: “You talked to Cora?”

“She asked me what I thought of Jamie.”

“Works for both genders.”

“Jamie was her twin’s name-Peter James, actually. We called him PJ until he insisted on Jamie because PJ was a baby name.”

“Did you have a baby name too?”

“Little Bear,” Derek grins sheepishly, “Apparently I mastered the art of growling from a very young age.”

“Cute.” Stiles leans against Derek’s shoulder, “Can I have another quesadilla, Little Bear?”

Derek groans, but turns to kiss Stiles affectionately on his forehead before leaving to get the aforementioned quesadilla.

Stiles sighs and takes a deep breath, figuring that at least he’s got (at most?) two and a half months with Derek. Stupid Derek making him fall harder when he was all but told _not_ _to_ do that very thing.

Stiles will move on though.

He has to.

 

V

 

The trees are colored vibrant shades of reds and oranges. Portland is declaring that fall has arrived with the onslaught of Back-To-School advertising and the smell of pumpkins spice lattes from the various Starbucks dotting the city’s architecture, not that any self-respecting local would deign to actually spend time inside a Starbucks.

It’s in one such consumerist coffee place that a pretty girl with a floppy-looking mutt stops Stiles before he goes in. She smiles and asks if he doesn’t mind coming back outside afterwards to hold her dog’s leash so she can get a drink herself. The dog’s cockeyed expression reminds him of Derek’s eyebrows.

But more importantly, this is an opportunity to try what Derek asked of him. Stiles gives her a smile, offering to get her coffee if she’ll save them a seat outside. She laughs, agreeing to it as the dog shoves his wet nose into Stiles’ crotch. Definitely a Derek-type dog.

He felt pretty good about the interaction until he hands her the coffee, introducing himself.

“I’m Claudia Ward,” She dimples, “Are you like a DJ or something?” She nods at the name on his cup, where STYLES is scribbled out.

Stiles tries, he even exchanges numbers with her but he _can’t_. He just can’t move on with someone that has those names. It’s too weird.

So he throws the number away.

When she calls a few days later, Derek answers it. At first, it looks like Derek’s going to give him the phone but then-

“Oh, I’m sorry but Stiles is being treated in the hospital for gonorrhea. Can I take a message? No? Okay, bye.”

Derek hangs up before returning to their small living room, sitting next to Stiles on the couch, “That’s really her name? Freaky.”

“I thought the same thing!”

“Want a sandwich?”

Stiles groans, shaking his head as they both return their attention to the baseball game. The Dodgers could make it to the World Series and despite his general hatred of the Dodgers; he’s helping Derek support them.

Plus baseball-game winning sex is damn good sex, even if he has a senior thesis to worry about. And figuring out where he’s going to live after graduation.

Finding a job would be nice too.

Derek leaves on the (non)anniversary of their fourth month as roommates. He’s going back to California for a short visit over the Columbus Day weekend. Stiles was invited along, but decided to stay home and deal with his academic workload. Senior year is _not_ the cakewalk it promised to be.

Cora calls as Stiles returns from the airport, leaving a warning. Derek might decide to stay indefinitely (“It’s kind of his thing to do these things impulsively, just a heads up”). Stiles doesn’t think-doesn’t want to think-that’ll happen.

He cried himself to sleep the first night Derek was supposed to be back—even if he didn’t want to admit it. A few more nights passed, Derek’s side of the bed empty and Stiles doesn’t want to attend his classes, research his thesis or play Call of Duty with Scott.

But he knows he can’t lie in bed all day, feeling sorry for something he was never promised. He had to get over Derek and Scott has been offering him a set-up with “the greatest guy” since sophomore year of college.

Dr. Isaac is a nice guy, even if he talks a _little_ too much about his medical cases and wears a scarf with almost every outfit. But he likes Stiles, he was open to the idea of adopting kids and sang My Girl in the shower.

Stiles is certainly attracted to him. Isaac’s perfectly tousled curls just asked for someone to mess them up. More than one time, he’d gotten lost in those ridiculously pale eyes, wondering if they were more grey or blue. He also possessed a seriously impressive collection of abdominal muscles.

Stiles had been a little unsure about the height difference. Isaac was just so much _taller_ , but Scott slapped him over the head for it. Scott _loved_ Isaac—they were best friends from adolescence. He’d been over the moon at the idea of his sleepaway-camp best friend dating his college best friend.

They didn’t do much past making out like teenagers on the first few dates. Isaac was getting out of a serious relationship and didn’t want to treat Stiles like a rebound. Stiles felt similarly, explaining that he was in a weird sort of open relationship with his roommate who had left their apartment indefinitely.

It started with heavy petting. Sloppy handjobs in the backseat of Stiles’ car had been another memorable moment. Oh and dry-humping in some thumping gay nightclub, both of them moaning harshly, struggling to inhale as they tried to get the other one off. Instead, both ended up with sticky underwear (a dangerous game).

And on one otherwise ordinary fall day, the two had sex in an on-call room. It all was very _Grey’s Anatomy_. Stiles meant to drop off a lunch because of a text about how Isaac forgot to pack lunch (there’d even been a sad-face). Sympathetic, Stiles went to the deli near his work-study after his shift. He took the bus to the hospital. It hadn’t been hard to spot Isaac-who did indeed live in the emergency room-looking handsome as ever in scrubs.

Isaac had been touched and horny by the gesture. He grabbed the lunch bag, yelled at an intern that he was taking a twenty minute break and showed Stiles a room with empty beds. It’d been ridiculously hot as fuck and Stiles wasted no time unzipping his pants, panting for the hot ER doctor.

Derek returned mere weeks later. Awkwardest of awkward, Isaac happened to be in the bed, spooning Stiles. They woke up at the noises of someone getting in. Stiles thought it was Scott coming by to hide from Kira’s mother.

Derek closed the bedroom door as quickly as he opened it, but the damage was done. Isaac took a deep breath, loosening his arms around Stiles, “That’s the roommate you fuck indiscriminately, right?”

“Not anymore.” Stiles flips around, smiling weakly, “He’s…uh, we’re not good for each other. I can see that now.”

Derek’s been gone now for three weeks and two days. Stiles hates himself for knowing that.

Isaac leans over, kissing the corner of his mouth, “I’m jealous at the idea that you’d have him _and_ me, you know?”

“I don’t.” Stiles thinks no one could ever really “have” Derek.

“So uh, I think we’re in a good place to call ourselves boyfriends. I feel serious about you. And maybe, you feel like you want something good…preferably with me?” Isaac reaches over to lace Stiles’ fingers into his.

Stiles laughs, squeezing his interlocked hand, “I am so glad that you’re decent at these Serious Conversations. Yeah, shit, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Isaac smiles, leaning over to kiss him again, “Good. You get dressed and have a conversation about how _I’m_ the only guy you’re sharing this bed with. Meanwhile, I’m going to get dressed, sneak out and go laundry, maybe nap while you guys talk. Call me later? I start my shift at 8 PM.”

That was his professional ‘doctor’ voice but damn if it didn’t turn Stiles on a little. “I will.”

“But I want you to know that I’d kiss you good bye if you didn’t have to deal with that awkward conversation.” Isaac adds, his cheeks flushing the palest shade of pink.

Stiles laughs, “Careful Doctor, or you’ll spoil me.”

“Welcome to the Lahey Boyfriend Treatment. Batteries not included.” Isaac grins before throwing the covers out and Stiles groans, shivering at the sudden cold. He hates cold, after all, but it helps to watch Isaac get his clothes on, strewn all over the bedroom floor.

“Come to dinner with me at Scott and Kira’s on Sunday?” Stiles asked, feeling sleep weary as he manages to get off the bed. They’d been harassing Stiles about a double date.

“Already told Scott I’d ask you.” Isaac laughs easily, already in his day-off clothes.

Stiles groans, but he nods with a small smile. This is what a functional boyfriends-type relationship feels like.

He’s only kinda/sorta experienced one such functional relationship. Freshmen year of college. It’d been with a girl named Sienna. She broke up with him after a month because he was “too clingy.” After her, Stiles built up a habit of serial dating, almost indiscriminate in his taste until the winter break of sophomore year when his dad admitted that the PD budget got slashed and money was tighter than usual—could Stiles apply for another loan?

So he did the video streaming, finding it too complicated to try and date people at the same time. About a solid year after being on the internet in nude, often orgasmic glory, Stiles more or less retired his Fucking_BuckyBarnes profile, thankful he could stop.

But then he entered a dry spell because he was so damn unsatisfied with his freshmen ways of serial dating. He wanted the Scott-and-Kira, the Cora-and-Chris, cuddling under the covers and sharing milkshakes of it all. But he was doing two majors and working twelve hours a week (fifteen if he could score substituting) at the box office for a small theatre that showcased different (often local) talent. There’d been no time to find someone for spooning and lacing fingers, really. Derek showed up without any notice and left the same way.

Now here’s Isaac, the guy that’s his going to be his first real, genuine long-term relationship, isn’t it? This is a healthy one with a great guy, who wants a family, makes a decent living, _saves lives_ and shamelessly sings cheesy songs.

Stiles pulls himself together, throwing on sweats and a shirt as he finds Derek in the guest room. He’s unsure of what to say.

“You moved on?” Derek sits on the edge of Scott’s old bed.

“He wants to be my boyfriend.” Stiles doesn’t really know what to say to that statement.

Derek swallows, “I came back to pack my stuff up.”

“You’re leaving?”

“It’s time. I-I miss-Cora’s having a baby and Chris…He isn’t-he’s not Kate. I can see that now. My family wants me home.”

Stiles nods. Cora had been overjoyed when the family invited Chris to dinner. Apparently all Hales attended without complaint. No fighting ensued. No one so much as glared and Derek shook Chris’ hand when he arrived with brownies. Granted, there had still been some tense moments, but the family was starting to understand that Cora was a package deal with Chris, his daughter, and Unborn Baby Argent.

“That’s fair. She’s what-five months now?” Stiles sucked in a breath, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Derek was definitely leaving him now.

“25 weeks. She waddles everywhere and demands oatmeal with raisins, which is weird because she usually hates both those things.”

“Pregnancy brain is weird.” Stiles says casually, thinking about how this would mean that they’d lived together (technically) for almost five months.

“I’m leaving tonight.” Derek sucks in a breath as he stands, “Whatever’s left here…you can do whatever with it.” He doesn’t hesitate in front of Stiles before brushing past, walking into their room.

Isaac is gone now and Derek wastes no time pulling all the drawers open, taking his clothes out.

He sets out the same duffel that Laura gave him and Stiles realizes quite dumbly that Derek’s not intending to take much besides clothes. He really is just going to leave, move on with his life like a fucking Bob Dylan song.

And Stiles will be surrounded with a house full of Derek-related mementos. Just like his old house was full of Mom’s stuff.

It sets something off in him and he charges toward Derek, intending to be angry and half-hitting him. But it’s quick to change into ugly crying and wrapping himself around Derek’s warm body. He’s just a fucking clinger like his college girlfriend claimed.

“You’re leaving me.” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest, not really noticing that Derek was returning his embrace, lightly circling his arms around Stiles, “Just like she did.”

“Who?”

“My mom,” Stiles is comforted by Derek’s gentle, rhythmic stroking up and down his back, “She died when I was thirteen and now everyone I love leaves me.”

Derek is quiet and turns to kiss Stiles’ salty tears away from his face. His eyes are wet, his shoulders trembling.

“I’m sorry but this is better for both of us.” He whispers, still rocking Stiles as his hands softly still, still on Stiles’ back.

Stiles takes a breath before laying a hand against Derek’s stubble, “I wish I’d known that the last time was our last time.”

Derek hesitates, heart pounding, “We could-”

“No.” Stiles laughs, shaking his head, “My boyfriend asked me to be exclusive to him. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

“Right.” Derek nods, his voice raspy.

It’s drizzling when he leaves with his suitcase, getting into a green cab. Stiles watches from the window, indulging in a stupid fantasy of going after Derek to beg him to _stay_.  Derek looks up at his window, giving a small wave before throwing himself in the car.

Stiles feels tears rolling down his cheeks (again).

Isaac is stuck at a dinner meeting with clients. The house is too empty. Stiles goes to Scott’s that night, for the comfort of a best friend and a pint of (nonjudging) ice cream.

 

VI

 

Derek’s book comes out just before Thanksgiving. Stiles stares at the big Barnes and Noble-produced poster of Derek’s stupid, smiling face and the book cover, standing on a busy sidewalk. 

He should buy a copy for friendship’s sake. Maybe read it, but he didn’t _have_ to read it. Probably should buy that copy though, set it out as decoration on the old coffee table. He could give it to Kira as a gift if he really hated it. She collected coffee-table books, didn’t she?

They never really talked about Derek’s writing. All Stiles knew was that Derek liked reimagining historical narratives. Also that this book, the end of a trilogy, had been a complete bitch for him to write. His fourth one (which he was still working on) had been much easier, apparently.

He buys the ridiculously expensive hardcover. The cashier is a fan, has already devoured the book and raves for fifteen minutes about the character development. Stiles thanks him, wondering idly how Derek deals with book press when he’s forced to sit at a table and make nice with fans like this guy, signing autographs and answering questions for hours on end. It probably kills him.

Scott offers him a ride home for Thanksgiving. Kira’s coming with and shotguns (as is the girlfriend’s prerogative). Stiles sits in the backseat. He meant to just turn on his iPod, maybe catch up on some work but instead he pulls out the hardcover and opens it, deciding that it’s a decent time for a read:

_Jamie and Dad, I carry you (and the rest) everywhere_

Stiles half chokes, fingers tracing the simple sentence. Damn it. He closes the book again determined not to think about stupid, emotionally vulnerable, tragically beautiful Derek.

He texts Isaac instead, wishing him a Happy Texan Thanksgiving. Apparently Isaac’s older brother lives on the El Paso army base. He can’t stop sending pictures of all the scenery, the food and his brother’s family (who invited Stiles to join them ‘anytime’).

Stiles even manages an actual laugh out loud when Isaac texts about some armadillo that scared the bejeezus out of his nephew. There’s even a bit of a flutter for Isaac when the guy texts a picture of the tear-stained two-year-old eating an Otter Pop, looking up with inquisitive, familiar blue eyes.

_Benjy’s feeling better now!_

Stiles smiles, mind drifting to Cora. He hadn’t told her about Isaac yet. Every time he tried, the words died in his throat and it was just easier to ask something about the pregnancy.

_I’m so spamming you pictures of my god-baby. Only 2 months to go_.

_Can’t wait babe. We’ll swap pics ;)_

Kira and Scott aww over those texts and Stiles perks up a little. It helps that Isaac has no shame in sending pictures of his nephew and two nieces.

As they get off the freeway, Stiles decides to call Cora before he gets distracted by his dad and cleans out the refrigerator.

“Sorry, Cora’s away from the phone. This is Chris.” He sounds distracted, a little edgy.

“Hey man, it’s Stiles. Just wanted to call and wish you guys a Happy Thanksgiving. Scott and Kira are sending their love too.”

“Oh Stiles, sorry.” Chris sounds friendlier, “Cora’s in the bathroom but she’ll be back soon, probably cranky. The baby won’t stop pushing on her bladder.”

“How fun.” Stiles winces in sympathy for his best friend, “What are you guys up to for Thanksgiving?”

“Just Talia’s. Allison’s finishing up our contribution of candied yams while I’m preparing to coax Cora into a maternity dress. Please tell her that elastic is sexy.”

“No problem,” Stiles laughs, “Is it a full house this year?”

“Yep, although Derek might stay in his room. He’s been in a writing funk lately. Oh here’s Cora for you-”

Cora greets him on the phone and Stiles manages to get through the conversation with her, surprised that Derek’s in a funk. He never seemed to have any issues writing in their apartment. Probably it’s the effect of transitioning into a new space, the holidays and Cora’s baby.

Dad looks trimmer than Stiles’ memory recalls when he ate pancakes and bacon at Sally’s. He gives Stiles a hard time about his diet, but it’s clear that he’s following it. Thanksgiving dinner is an exception to that rule, of course.

They eat at Scott’s, giving Melissa pecan pie and pumpkin flavored beer. She serves turkey enchiladas (Scott’s favorite) and raves about what a wonderful help Kira’s been in the kitchen-the cornbread has never tasted better. Scott is bursting with joy to have his mom and his girlfriend get along so well (not to mention his eagerly anticipated enchilada).

Scott shows Melissa a picture of Isaac. Well, actually a picture of Isaac and Stiles biting into opposite sides of a glazed doughnut from some festival. Dad thinks that they’re ridiculous but he approves of Isaac. After all, he’s a doctor. 

That night, Stiles lies on his bed and pulls out the hardcover. It’s been on the back of his mind since Chris said that thing about Derek being in a funk.

He can’t concentrate on the book, mostly lost (probably because he hasn’t read the first two in Derek’s series). Instead, he’s flipping through it until he stops at a random place, scanning the lines.

_Ty sucked in a breath, trying to get his mind back on track as he took in DB’s naked torso. DB wasn’t helping matters, palming himself to a blatant hardness that captured Ty’s attention._

Stiles laughs, half-unaware of his hand traveling downward, mimicking the actions of DB. He can’t help but picture Derek staring at him, pupils dilated.

_DB grins, “Let me suck you off, soldier. I’m nostalgic.”_

_“I can’t.” Ty curses his member, twitching with evident interest. Blood is starting to migrate south and it’s all too easy to picture DB’s velvet mouth on him, the flick of his talented tongue, the blissed-out look on his face, “I have a fiancée now.”_

_“I think that your body is saying anything but.” DB’s voice is soft, “Is she human? Does she know how to make you fall apart like I do?”_

_Ty is stuck, slammed against the unforgiving, broad bark of a tree as DB settles himself, eye-length with Ty’s scabbard. He doesn’t spare much of a glance for the dirk, his long fingers efficiently unbuckling Ty’s enemy-shaded pants, cooing as a familiar, engorged cock pops up, almost comically bopping him on the nose. DB doesn’t waste any time sucking on the foreskin before Ty’s fully hard._

Stiles feels himself gripping the base of his cock, harder than ‘Ty’ apparently. It’s just… _weird_ of him (given that his usual proclivities include an internet stream), but he’s hard all the same. It doesn’t help that he’s essentially just superimposing his and Derek’s names over these two random characters.

But this blow-job description is actually doing it for him. Stiles clamps his mouth down, well aware of the fact that he’s in his bedroom where his father is more than able to hear moaning and other noise of the self-pleasuring nature. Fuck, he needs to find his lube.

Did he _pack_ lube? Damn it. By the time Stiles manages to find lotion underneath the guest bathroom downstairs, he’s lost his erection (maintaining one while digging through the contents of two different bathrooms is actually pretty hard).

Besides it’s lavender scented and seven years old. Stiles grimaces, deciding that he’s not that desperate. He tucks the lotion in his drawer and puts the book on the nightstand. Tomorrow he’ll buy the first two and read them properly.

With lube on hand.

Maybe Isaac would read with him, act out some of the sexier scenes.

Then again, asking your boyfriend to act out your hottie room/fuckmate’s words isn’t the smartest thing to do.

 

VII

 

Derek can’t stop replaying that crushing scene in his head. It’s been a full month now. He’d felt so damn hopeful as he rehearsed his words in his head, walking through the apartment.

“ _I think I’d want to try making this serious_ …”

Christmas is in a week and Stiles has a Facebook picture with that cherubic blond guy, his eyes crinkled like he’s laughing really hard. The blond smiles like a cocky asshole conqueror, his arm slung around Stiles’ neck (Stiles looking up at him instead of the camera). There’s the beginning of a faint hickey underneath the collar of Stiles’ worn Letters To Cleo shirt. Derek liked that shirt because it was easy to pull down and just neck him 

_“I want to be serious with you…”_

Derek can’t stop thinking of how he walked in, seeing the blond guy wrapped around Stiles.

_“I think it’s time for us to try something real”_

He grabs something, throwing it across his wall. He waited too damn long and he knew it but sometimes it was just frustrating to accept that fact, his head flashing to the image of them together.

Laura walks in, not looking impressed as she picks up the book and sets it back on the table, “How’s your book?”

“It’s a joke,” _like my life_

“Well.” Laura sits down on the edge of the bed, “It’s been close to two months since you came home the day after you told us that you were planning to live in Portland for a while. Wanna share?”

“No.” Derek huffs, “Go away, I have to focus on my book.”

“Fine.” Laura raises her hand in mock surrender, “You know, I have a nice friend I’d like to set you up with?”

“No. Go away.” Derek minimizes his Facebook, “I have to finish editing chapter six at least. More ideally, I’d write Chapter 12.”

Why did he decide to start a new series?

“Fine. Hey, we’re going to do Cora’s baby shower on New Years Day. Thought it’d be a cute theme. You’ll come, right?”

“Yes, go away.” Derek is scanning his Word document, frowning. What was he thinking when he wrote this scene?

_“I think we’d be good together for a long-term kind of thing. Maybe boyfriends?”_

Ugh, it was too quiet. Derek flips on angry emo music from Cora’s teenage years. He’s not the biggest grunge fan but right now, they’re helping his desultory mood.

Christmas is sooner than he anticipated and he still hasn’t gone shopping for gifts. Because of his bone-deep hatred for holiday crowds, Derek goes to Amazon instead of finding directions to the mall. They’ll even gift-wrap.

Oh there’s a Letters to Cleo album that’s available. Amazon recommends it for him (probably because he’s been trolling the band’s shirts). Derek turns off teen-Cora’s surprisingly evocative playlist and decides to listen to a sample. It can’t hurt to have some music while he’s looking for a nice water filter or something for Chris. Maybe a humidifier…

_Oh I can’t take another heartache/Though you say you’re my friend…_

Somehow though, he gets distracted and ends up watching a clip of Stiles deep throating a dildo. He’s not even all that hard, just staring at Stiles who looks so damn smug despite essentially fucking a dildo into his mouth.

_You say you gotta be/Cruel to be kind in the right measure…_

 

VIII

 

“Explain to me why I agreed to let Laura be in charge of this again?” Cora mutters to Kira as she takes off her jacket. At eight months, there’s no doubt that she’s pregnant with a little one. 

“Proximity, excitement.” Kira sounds apologetic, putting her own jacket on the coat rock, “Also availability. But we’re here for you now, Cora. Completely.”

“Could be worse.” Stiles takes off his own jacket, feeling jittery as he glances around the Hale family home. It’s huge for a house with only two full-time residents (Talia and-technically-Derek), but it feels small with the woods surrounding it.

"It’ll be lots of fun!” Kira tells both of them, excited. Stiles isn’t quite as excited.

Scott and Isaac went to Chris’ shower (code: Laura’s boyfriend hosting paintball). Cora had grudgingly told Stiles to go with the other men to the ‘fun party’ but Stiles refused, claiming that his godfatherly and best friend duties were to Cora.

Never mind that he wanted to avoid Derek as much as possible. Even if it meant having to think about his boyfriend and his…former roommate armed with paintball guns (Scott texted that they, thankfully, ended up on the same team).

Cora grips Stiles’ upper arm as they walk to the living room, “If anyone tries to guess my weight or some other asinine game, I need you to stage some sort of distraction and get me _out_ of here. Take me somewhere with curly fries.”

“Noted.” Stiles pats her hand, “It’ll be fine. I think.”

“It’ll be _fun_!” Kira chirps from behind them. Cora has no time to make a scathing retort because they’re in the center of the living room, full of women and various baby decorations. There’s a huge-ass pile of presents that Stiles is not looking forward to carrying out to the trunk of Chris’ SUV.

“Cora!” Laura is quick to hug her sister, beaming. Talia is there as well, along with other females, eyes alight with excitement. Stiles is suddenly very aware that he is the only man in attendance.

Well except for a sleeping toddler being held by one of the women.

“Oh is he the father?” A tallish woman pipes up to ask Cora, looking at Stiles with interest, “Your baby is going to be quite the looker with that nose.”

“No Judy, this is Stiles, the baby’s godfather.” Cora corrects lightly, resting a hand on her swollen belly, “Chris is at his own…shower.” She leans in to whisper that ‘Judy’ is Laura’s nosiest friend.

“Chris has a nice nose himself.” Stiles says politely, feeling like he’d rather say nothing at all but there’s awkward tension and he wants to diffuse it…somehow. Laura situates Cora in an overstuffed armchair, clapping her hands excitedly. Cora makes Stiles sit on the armrest and Kira insists on helping Talia pass out appetizers.

“Stiles, how’s school?” A Hale asks him-he thinks it’s Uncle Peter’s wife, but Stiles can’t remember the name.

“It’s going fine.” Stiles nods, “Just…senior year stuff.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?” ‘Nosy’ butts in, Stiles having already forgotten her name (Julie?).

“I’m sending out resumes to legal aid offices all over Oregon-mostly Portland. I’d like to go on and do law school. I’m leaning toward immigration law right now but a year ago, I was fired up about environmental so it could be anything.” Stiles is aware of how much it _sounds_ like he knows what he’s doing, but he really doesn’t.

“What about Isaac?” Cora cuts in, surprised, “Isn’t he doing the Providence residency for three more years?”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiles, “We’re talking about moving in together…soon. I live closer to the hospital than he does by like five minutes.”

Plus he doesn’t like living alone. Not that anyone needs to know that.

“Ok everyone, Allison’s here!” Laura announces, clapping her hands as Allison awkwardly shuffles away, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible sitting next to Kira.

“Oh is she Cora’s friend?” Nosy pipes up

“Allison’s going to be my stepdaughter, Judy.” Cora cuts in sharply, having entirely too much satisfaction about it. She rubs her (very pregnant) belly, “We’re not doing any cutesy games, Laur.”

“ _Cora_ ,” Laura protests, “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“The last time you said that, Derek danced naked in the woods.” One of the cousins points out, and Cora laughs along over Laura’s protests.

“What happened?” Stiles asks

Cora rolls her eyes, “When Derek was little, he was obsessed with magic. Big surprise, right?”

Stiles chuckles, imagining little Derek curled up with Harry Potter. Shit Derek had probably camped out to get the books when they were released.

“Laura told him that if he ran naked through the woods here-” Cora gestures outside, “He’d turn into a werewolf. But only on a full moon and only if he was howling and dancing.”

“No shit?” Stiles can imagine

“Derek woke all of us up with his dumbassed howling.” The cousin explains, grinning.

“I grounded Laura for two weeks, if I recall correctly.” Talia remarks, “But Cora, your sister put a lot of thought in this party.”

“Right.” Cora sighs, nodding, “What am I going to like?”

Laura grins, clapping her hands again, “Pin the Sperm on the Uterus!”

Cora groans loader and Laura laughs, hugging her sister, “Kidding, kidding! We’re doing onesie decorating and Guess That Baby. I got baby pictures of us Hales and…others for people to guess on the TV.” She gestures to where the TV is, showing an empty white screen.

Cora relaxes, letting out a deep breath, “Well…that’s not so bad, okay.”

“I vetoed the sperm pinning thing.” Stiles heard Kira whisper to Cora and stifles his own laugh.

The first picture is obviously a baby boy looking up at the camera as he grips a toy lawnmower, mouth half open. He’s got a swath of silky dark hair and brilliant baby blues.

Chris was pretty cute for a baby, Stiles thinks, amused by the roll of baby fat on his arms.

“That _has_ to be Chris,” Cora says, convinced, “His eyes are so perfectly Chris.”

Talia laughs merrily, “I’m sorry dear, but I know what my Little Bear looks like.”

“Derek Hale, 15 months old. Also known as Little Bear or Belly.”

Everyone else laughs as Cora groans. Stiles can see it now-Derek’s long lashes and the slight pout to his mouth. The eyebrows are surprisingly light. He files ‘Belly’ away for a later date.

Laura flips the screen to a new baby picture, awws resounding. This is of a toddler Cora (at least Stiles thinks it’s Cora) on the beach, holding up a shovel like it was her scepter.

“That’s so Cora.” Someone else yells out, laughing.

“That watermelon tankini is tasteful,” Stiles comments and Cora shoves him, both of them laughing.

“Cora Hale, 2 years old and very bossy.” Laura confirms with a grin, “The tankini was originally mine.”

“I’ve never seen such a sassy-looking baby.” Allison remarked

“I often told Ward that whenever Cora did something particularly _Cora_.” Talia admits, amused.

Stiles blinks in surprise at the next picture. It’s _him_ , he recognizes the picture from the hallway of his childhood home. He’s standing up in his dad’s police car, gripping the wheel while only wearing his diaper, gleeful smile as he looks up toward the mirror. The sirens are flashing above the car, almost cut off in the picture.

“It can’t be either parent.” Nosy remarks, as they try to figure it out, “That baby has brown eyes.”

“I think it’s Stiles, if I recognize the nose.” Cora says easily, amused.

“Stiles Stilinski, 18 months old. Scott got the picture for me.” Laura explains, “I couldn’t resist, I’m sorry!”

“Oh you look so adorable.” Talia tells Stiles fondly.

“I was just born that way.” Stiles jokes, sheepish, “My dad loves that picture too.”

The afternoon is surprisingly lighthearted. Stiles’ heart half melts, seeing two more baby pictures of Derek (one where Laura is squeezing infant-him tightly and he does _not_ look happy, the other with him reading _Harry Potter_ to Baby Jamie and Cora).

They draw on onesies for Cora (Stiles does the Ironman Arc Reactor over where the heart would be, after serious deliberation—Cora rolls her eyes, but laughs all the same).

Most people leave around then with a gift bag of bath salts and candy (“Milky Way and Baby Ruth, _really_ Laura?”). Cora relaxes more and more as Laura’s friends (Stiles has a feeling now that most of the women present were here for _Laura_ more so than Cora) leave.

“The boys are coming here.” Peter’s wife says cheerfully, “We’ll have a nice New Year’s family dinner and Cora, I know you’ll hate it but Laura and I set up Bobbing for Nipples to play with everyone tonight. It’ll be a _scream_.”

They’re already adding black and gold streamers to the room, giving it more of a New Years Baby vibe. The Hales really don’t kid around with party themes, apparently.

“I will scream.” Cora half-threatens but she sighs, “No, it’s fine, whatever. It’s just family tonight so, at least…” She sighs, waving her hands around as she apparently enters her ‘I’m fine’ space.

“There’s also karaoke.” Allison offers from where she’s clearing paper plates.

Cora grins, “I do like watching other people sing like idiots.” She hesitates, glancing at Stiles, “I’m just…a little hungry though?” The doorbell rings and Allison gets up to get it, the others distracted with decorating.

The baby shower had been all healthy foods-limp carrot sticks and rolled up bits of kale in creamed spinach (he thinks, but he’s uncertain).  Stiles stood up,

“I’ll get you some of the seitan. You didn’t really try any, Cor.” Laura says, overhearing as Cora makes a desperate face to Stiles.

“I’m going to-” Stiles is halfway through an excuse to go hide for a half hour at some greasy spoon that serves curly fries and milkshakes by the tonnage when a commotion breaks out at the front door. Scott’s calling out for gauze and ice.

“Oh God, is it Chris?” Cora asks, alarmed by the noise. A second later, Chris pops up, along with Scott, both of them carrying Isaac who has one hell of a dripping nosebleed.

“Holy shit!” Stiles rushes over, cradling Isaac’s face, “Babe, what _happened_?” He strokes Isaac’s curls, stunned at the sheer amount of blood. Isaac, who caught spiders under mugs before releasing them outside, even though he was scared of spiders.

“Careful, I got a bruised rib too.” Isaac hisses, wincing. He sits down and Scott’s pressing tissues into Isaac’s hand, which he shoves up his nose, holding them there.

“Were you _mugged_?” Stiles asks, sitting on his other side. Isaac keeps his eyes on the ceiling because of the nosebleed but Stiles keeps stroking his dampened curls, “I think I might actually be the pretty one in our relationship now.”

Isaac lets out a gurgle of laughter, blue eyes soft, “You’ve always been the pretty one.”

“No distracting me with compliments,” Stiles laughs anyway, his eyes crinkling with fondness, “What happened?”

Isaac groans, “I made a tasteless joke about you. Derek punched me twice and I reciprocated in self defense.”

“We pulled them apart after that.” Chris adds (not so) helpfully, sitting next to Cora where he’s giving her an absentminded shoulder massage.

“ _Derek_?” Stiles looks up for the first time and now he sees Derek who is sitting down, a frozen bag of peas held up to his eye, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry.” Derek grunts out, “I have a hard time controlling my temper.”

“And we’d all been drinking except for Chris. He has a solidarity pregnancy pact, whatever that means.” Scott adds

Stiles frowns, “What was the joke?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek interrupts, “I stepped over the line.”  Scott nods in silent agreement but Stiles is still mystified.

“No, I want to know why you felt provoked enough to punch my boyfriend.” Stiles explains smoothly, feeling his anger grow, “I think I have that right.”

“I found the joke startlingly tasteless and overreacted.” Derek says half-grinding his teeth. He’s abandoned the bag of peas and Stiles is somewhat happy to see that Isaac’s fist left behind quite the shiner.

“It was funny!” Scott protests, “Definitely in the spirit of a bachelor party.”

Chris sighs, admitting: “I did laugh despite being sober.”

“Isaac?” Stiles asks, slowly. Derek leaves.

Isaac flutters his eyes shut, “Dave was talking about how Laura’s been obsessed with making these jelly preserves.”

“Which she is!” Laura’s husband adds helpfully, probably eager to contribute to the conversation.

“Derek said that we should get some grape jelly from Laura before we leave because you like it on your toast.” Isaac continues, half monoto

“I do.” Stiles admits, still focused on Isaac, unable to see how this was going to provoke Derek.

“I said that you prefer jam because you can’t jelly your dick up my ass.” Isaac’s cheeks flush as the girls mostly groan and crinkle their noses, “It-it was bad. I’m sorry.”

Stiles laughs, startled by how _innocent_ it is, really. Scott’s laughing too, even though Kira lightly slaps him for it.

Isaac doesn’t really make dirty jokes after all, but when he’s had a few, he’ll repeat some of the ones he’s heard from his brother (all of which have been fantastic). And honestly, the jokes make him more perfect in Stiles’ mind.

“That’s _so_ gross.” Laura shudders, “But it’s okay! I’ve been thinking about branching out into granola bars lately.”

Stiles leans over and kisses Isaac softly on the cheek, whispering “Well if nothing else, that’s accurate. I’m sorry he punched you.”

“I provoked him, I think.” Isaac looks guilty, “I should go apologize again."

Stiles shakes his head, “Nope. No, you’re not going to do that.” He looks up at the small crowd, “Sorry guys but we’re bailing on the party tonight. I suddenly have a hankering for some _jam_.”

 

IX

 

Stiles is nervously tapping his leg against the plastic waiting room chair. Along with half of the Hales, Kira’s with him, waiting for Cora’s baby to be born. Allison and Chris are in the birthing room down the hall, where she’s been in labor for _forever_.

Just like Cora, the baby was right on time, water breaking just as Stiles and Kira’s flight touched down. They rushed directly to the hospital, only to be told by Talia that they’d have to wait a while, but the baby was coming. He or she was just going to be a while because that’s how it was with first babies.

Derek’s there too, shoved in a corner next to two cousins. He doesn’t look at Stiles, statue-like in his determination to flip through some magazine as his cousins talk idly to each other.

Kira’s knitting-this is her second pair of baby booties.

His phone buzzes and Stiles checks it, amused to see Scott and Isaac grinning, each holding up an uncapped beer,

_Time to toast?_

Stiles chuckles, texting back: _Not quite yet. Soon though_

He closes the message window and smiles for a second at his phone homescreen. Isaac had taken him to Texas right after the Baby Shower/Bachelor Disaster Party and Stiles had fallen in love with Isaac’s nephew and nieces. The girls insisted on inviting him and Isaac to a tea party and helping them ‘dress up’ for the occasion. It was his favorite part of the trip (and there’d been a lot of memorable parts). 

He smiled fondly at the two of them in costume jewelry and makeup (eyeliner worked on Isaac. The same could not be said about green eyeshadow) along with beaming Kelly, the four-year-old who insisted on glittering their cheekbones. The oldest, Mandy, took the picture after applying red lipstick on them. Isaac kept trying to kiss them and him with the lipstick, delighted by how it made his kisses more visible.

It was a ridiculous picture but Stiles had felt such a _surge_ of love for Isaac in those moments. He even thought he was ready. Or at least close to ready for saying it-the dreaded three word sentence. Isaac told him right before he left, a careless ‘love you babe’ as he pecked Stiles good-bye. Stiles, idiot that he was didn’t realize the significance until the plane landed.

Which was really fucked up. He then texted Isaac a sideways heart along with: _u 2 babe_.

He got a sideways heart in return so he thinks that Isaac intended it to be that subtle. Which makes sense. Isaac doesn’t do big gestures so of course his ‘I love you’ is as simple as his suggestion that they be boyfriends. It’s stripped of grandeur but endearing in its own way.

“Oh there’s Chris!” Someone announces and Stiles is grateful for the distraction from his increasingly worrying thoughts. 

Chris is beaming, his eyes shining wetly, “Cora and our son are healthy and recovering. Eight pounds, four ounces with black hair and Cora’s chin,” He looks drunk with happiness, “I have a boy!”

Everyone cheers, hugging him, hugging each other. Allison comes out then, grinning broadly, “Dad, Cora wants you back in there to finalize the name. He’s beautiful.” She hugs him, a few tears running down her face as well.

“Just as beautiful as you were.” Chris pecks her lightly on the forehead, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you.” Allison mumbles as they separate, the tears still easy to fall. Stiles wraps her into a hug of his own as Kira offers a tissue.

“Did he cry right away?” Talia asks, curious

Allison chokes out a laugh before nodding, “He has really blue eyes and his grip is strong. Dad cut the cord and I was the first one to hold him after they cleaned him up. I brought him over to Cora and she just-” Allison sighs, shaking her head with amusement, “She just took him and said, ‘I love you,’ and then we took a selfie half-crying, half-laughing.”

“My grandson.” Talia says fondly, “My first grandbaby.”

“You’ll see him soon.” Allison promises

Sure enough, they all get to coo over August James Hale Argent, AJ for short. Apparently Cora hates the idea of Augie or Gus as nicknames as much as she likes August.

She explains that it was August when Talia apologized on behalf of the family. As a result it was the first month when Cora felt like she’d really gotten her beloved family back without having to sacrifice the man she’d grown to love so fiercely.

Chris’ one rule apparently had been that the baby’s name had to start with an A because he wanted it to match Allison’s name. It did sound pretty: Allison and AJ Argent. There was already a picture of them together on Chris’ facebook cover picture (the profile was one of him and pregnant Cora).

Stiles can’t help but smile as he looks at Derek with the tiny baby in his big hands, his face soft in a way Stiles has never seen before. He thinks that’s what Derek looks like when he’s willing to love something without reserve. Because he’s an absolute glutton for punishment, Stiles takes a picture, saving it to his gallery.

He texts Scott and Isaac a picture of him wedged up next to Cora’s sweaty (angry-looking) face, beaming like the snarky asshole he is,

_Brand new mommy! Baby is Hale and happy with her nose, his eyes and my god-fatherly cuteness_

“Stiles?” Derek asks as Stiles presses send on the group text, having handed AJ off to his mother, “I just wanted to apologize for punching Isaac. I’d tell him myself but-” Derek shrugs.

Stiles finds himself staring at Derek before he realizes that he’s supposed to reciprocate in some way. Nodding awkwardly, he tries to smile, “Thanks…I um, I read your books. They’re really good,” His smile is brighter than intended but he can’t seem to dim it down.

He decided to read the books properly after Thanksgiving and ended up in an intense book binge he hadn’t experienced since seventh grade when he decided to read the Harry Potter books and realized that they really were so much better than the movies.

“Yeah?” Derek gives him a small, almost miniscule smile in return.

Stiles doesn’t want to rave, he knows Derek’s shy about compliments, “Yeah. I was pretty much sobbing by the end. Thought for sure, given your _Derek-ness_ , that Ty and DB weren’t endgame but…”

“No, I get it. I couldn’t resist letting them have a happy ending. They weren’t supposed to—” Derek hesitates, sheepish, “It worked better, the flow, after I decided to let them be happy.”

“I’m glad you did.” Stiles tells him honestly, “But, yeah, overall, I really liked your depiction of the Spanish-American War with the supernatural creatures thrown in." 

“Took forever to convince a publisher but thank you. I’m working on a new project and it’s really different—for young adults. I hope…I hope you like it too.”

“I’m sure I will. You’re a brilliant writer.” Stiles assures him quickly, “Honestly, I love your writing.”

“I love you.” Derek colors as he backs away, “I meant…I love you… _reading_ my writing, that is.”

He pretty much makes a break for it after that and Stiles just groans again, rubbing his forehead. How is it that Derek saying those three words to him makes him feel giddy and joyful in a way that Isaac’s fifty-thousand boyfriend-proving and perfect action can’t?

When he gets home, Isaac picks him up at the airport with flowers. He beams as Stiles slings his bag off, kissing Isaac as if they haven’t seen each other in years. Stiles’ memory of Derek’s big hands interfere, along with that fucking covered-up confession. 

He’s the one to step away, shaking his head, “I can’t believe you decided to go with ‘love you babe’ and you _know_ I didn’t have any coffee that morning.”

Isaac laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets, sheepish, “I was mostly practicing. I didn’t think it would really register with you and I wanted to be able to stand here when you landed and say, ‘I love you.’ Which I can, for the record.”

Stiles laughs, but it feels hollow. Because the ‘I love you’ he heard just 12 hours prior, it stole his breath and squeezed his heart in a way that this one didn’t. There’s barely a flutter if he’s honest. 

“Shit, Isaac.” Stiles groans, staring at the flowers, “I’m sorry to say this but I’m still hung up on Derek.” He squints his eyes at Isaac, “I don’t think I can ever be in a place where I’m in love with you. Not when I’m measuring everything you do compared to _him_ and even though you do it so much better, I’m still thinking about him. What’s wrong with me?” He can feel the tears on his cheeks.

Isaac nods slowly, his eyes dim, “If you still love him then we should probably stop this before it gets…” He sucks in his breath, “Like right now, I can tell you that within two months I think I could move on with someone else. But if you still can’t move on from Derek…” Isaac’s voice trails off, “Um, Scott’s here too for Kira. You should get a ride with him.”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods, biting his lip, “Isaac, look, I’m not _in_ love with you but I think I love you, if that makes sense.”

 “No, not in the way that it counts.” Isaac presses a gentle hand against Stiles’ heart, “But that’s okay. Good luck, Stiles.”

His hand drops as he brushes past Stiles, still holding the flowers.

 

X

 

“I should just go ahead and buy three cats now.” Stiles sniffs as he takes another spoonful of the cherry garcia-flavored pint that Kira handed to him (She’s eating mint chocolate, waiting to trade). Scott’ll be home soon but he’s currently playing the role of Isaac’s wingman at some Portland bar. 

“Don’t. You know Scott would end up taking care of the cats and then I’d never see him.” Kira points out logically, “Are you regretting that you broke up with Isaac?”

“No.” Stiles admitted, “He didn’t click with me. I’m just regretting that I can’t seem to move on from Derek. I heard him say ‘I love you’ and then take it back. I don’t know-” Stiles sighed, rubbing the side of his face with frustration, “I kinda thought he’d come back for me when I told Cora I broke it off with Isaac.”

“Oh Stiles, that’s so passive. How do you even know that he knows? Cora’s a new mom, I doubt she remembers your name if it’s not connected to AJ’s sleeping schedule or the consistency of his stool.”

Stiles pauses in realization, staring at her, “I-I didn’t think about that. But it doesn’t matter. He took it back and I don’t think he wants me…enough. Like he’s _so_ the type just to suffer in silence for years without making a move, even if the other person was moony over him.”

“So why don’t you make a move?” Kira asks, “It’s been a while now and you still don’t want Isaac, right?” 

“More or less.” Stiles says carefully. There had been things he loved about Isaac, after all. And Isaac gave him better insight in what he wanted in a relationship. Just not a relationship with Isaac.

“So call Derek and ask him if he wants to be your boyfriend, stupid.” Kira suggests, as if it really is that practical and easy to do.

Stiles hesitates, “We’ll see each other at Cora’s wedding. Well probably before that too because of the rehearsal dinner. But either way, we’ll see each other in less than a month and if he told me no _now_ , that makes the wedding harder for both of us.”

“I forgot about the wedding.” Kira grins, perking up at the thought, “I bet you guys get together then! It’ll be so romantic! He’ll ask you to dance and you’ll tease him about what a doting uncle he is then you’ll kiss.”

Stiles groans

“Stiles, he said he loves you, right?”

“Technically, he said ‘I love you,’ then he paused and corrected himself by saying, ‘I love you reading what I write,’ which is a statement I have analyzed too many times to count.”

“He loves you.” Kira assures him, “And if he doesn’t, I’ll get a sword from my collection and use him like a cutting board.”

“You’re too cute for these sort of threats.” Stiles tells her, amused, “So that’s a definite no on the cats, though?”

“No, but maybe a haircut might be a nice change.” Kira suggests, “How’s job hunting?”

“Unlike Derek, some people want me. Well at least enough for interviews.” Kira makes one of her comforting noises.

He hesitates, “I got a weird one coming up too. Chris recommended me to an old friend of his that’s starting up a campaign run in the Beacon County district. He’s planning his headquarters in Santa Rosa, like fifteen minutes away from Cora and Chris.”

“Stiles!” Kira shoves his shoulder lightly, “That’s _awesome_!”

“It’s nothing right now, really. I have a skype interview next week.” Stiles shrugs, “We’ll go out for celebratory drinks or desultory ice cream after.”

“I’ll make sure we’re stocked up.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite after Scotty boy.”

“I think I want a baby.” She blurts it out instead of whatever reassuring statement she meant to make. But Stiles realizes that she needs to talk as much as he does. And hell, he’ll let her talk.

Stiles drops his spoon in the mostly-eaten pint, “Trade.” He demands and they switch pints as Kira starts explaining her worries in debating how to propose the idea to Scott. Stiles is happy for the distraction. He excels in the role of supportive best friend compared to star boyfriend material.

 

XI

 

_Still for Jamie and Dad (and the rest)  
_ _To, also, my family (particularly my sisters)_ _  
__I love you Laura (but not your jelly preserves)  
_ _Loving Cora is easier on my stomach (even with Chris)  
_ _Especially though, I love my new nephew (August James)  
_ _So here lie your names in dedication (and all my love)_  

Stiles shrugs as he scans the lines that Cora emailed him. It’s from an advance copy of Derek’s latest book (set to release about a week after the wedding, Derek having to start his promotional book-tour almost directly after).

“It’s cute. Long for Derek’s style. I’m surprised he gave that much information about his personal life to the reader.”

“I know!” Cora sucks in a breath, “There was something off about that because usually he just says that the books are for Jamie and our dad. I was reading it over and over all afternoon and then Chris pointed out that the first letters of each sentence—Stiles, it’s your name.”

Stiles looks at it again and does a double take, “Shit. I didn’t…Shit. Wow.”

“Yeah, I-” There’s a far off wail and Cora groans, “Stiles, I’m sorry, AJ’s hungry. I’ll call you soon.”

“ _Cora_!” Stiles hangs up anyway, groaning as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Derek subtly dedicated a book to him. It’s a love poem for him, a secret that few people will recognize.

He can’t even deal with this. Derek clearly loves him but-

Stiles swallows, staring at the phone as his resolve gathers. He dials again, tapping his fingers against the mouse-pad. He’d been debating three different offers for the past week but this pretty much decided it for him.

“Hello? This is Stiles Stilinski…I wanted to go ahead and accept your offer for next year.”

 

XII

 

The wedding is awkwardly sandwiched between finals and graduation. Stiles, keeping his promise to Cora, convinces his professors to turn his final papers in early. As a result, he pretty much feels like death as he lands in San Francisco, tuxedo dry-cleaned and neatly hung in his arm.

Kira and Scott are catching a later flight because of Scott’s work schedule. Isaac called and offered to come anyway, knowing how awkward weddings are. Stiles thanked him before politely refusing, reminding Isaac that he couldn’t do that to Mason, the new guy in Isaac’s life.

 

Chris is supposed to be picking him up but it’s Derek at the waiting zone instead. And of course Stiles should’ve anticipated that. After all, it’s the hottest guy he’s ever slept with, looking hotter than ever in practically painted-on jeans and a v-neck shirt. And here’s Stiles, thin trail of dried drool on his cheek from the airplane, circles under his eyes and damn, he can’t remember the last time he showered.

“Derek.” Stiles manages to say that coherently, and his face is even smiling properly

“Chris found it too hard to leave AJ when he was on the precipice of a new Baby milestone.” Derek explains

“Oh what’s topping the smiling pictures from last week?” Stiles grins, thinking back to the pictures Cora spammed him with.

“He’s doing mini push-ups apparently. Chris was enraptured.” Derek shrugs, “I thought the babbling thing was more of a highlight.”

“That’s ridiculously cute.” Stiles laughs, “I bet they’re doing them in tandem and Cora’s begging him to let her take a video.”

“Probably.” Derek agrees, amused, “Um, so I can carry…something?” He holds out a hand hesitantly

“No, no, it’s just for three days so just the suit and carry-on.” Stiles explains awkwardly before hesitating, “I broke up with Isaac after AJ was born.”

Derek bites his cheek, “I came back in October to ask if you would be my boyfriend. Isaac beat me to the punch.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles can’t help his breathy tone, eyes wide, “From the minute I saw you in that stupid restaurant—”

“Laura picked it.”

Stiles laughs weakly, shifting his train of thought, “You told me that you didn’t do relationships.”

“No, I didn’t.” Derek agrees, “When I came home, it felt right to be back with family and I was needed to keep the peace between Cora and Peter, keep helping the family heal. Eventually it got to a manageable place. I was happy like I was before Cora got pregnant. Like I was before I met you, down to the strangers I slept with.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks, feeling tense.

“Then I realized that usual feeling of happiness isn’t…I felt a more _right_ kind of happy in that damn shoebox of a backyard helping you bury a homeless cat. I miss that feeling and I realized that what I have with my family isn’t…much, unless I have you to share it with.” He makes a face, “I’m not being terribly clear right now.”

“It’s a little gruesome.” Stiles agrees, staring at him, “You dedicated your latest book to me, Derek. I saw that and it made me realize that you really love me, probably just as much as I love you.”

“I do.” Derek says, stepping toward him, “Stiles—I, I do.”

Stiles can’t help his teasing smile, “Damn it Derek, I was going to hold out until you begged to be my boyfriend. I was going to be gorgeous and _showered_ and wearing an awesome pair of pants that show off my best assets.”

“You’re perfect.” Derek bends down, both knees to the disgusting puce carpet of the airport, “I’d like to be your boyfriend, Stiles. I should’ve asked the minute Cora introduced us. The minute I wanted to lick the mole under your right ear to the bigger one on your cheek. The minute I remembered your interest in uncut—" 

“We’re in public!” Stiles yelps as he pulls Derek up, groaning, “Yes, ok, you can be my boyfriend. I’ll need some nice arm candy for this wedding I’m going to this weekend.”

Derek surges up and kisses him. It’s sloppy, but Stiles can’t help but melt into it, his hand fisting Derek’s shirt (the other one clinging absently to his draped suit).

Derek pulls away, “The minute I saw that you made me toast. I think that’s when I started really loving you. I just didn’t realize it until it was gone.”

Stiles laughs, “I think it was when I came home that night and you wanted to stay.”

“I want to stay forever, no matter where you are.”

“Well, after graduation, I’m moving to Santa Rosa. Can you stand being twenty minutes away from your family?”

Derek laughs, reaching in to hug Stiles one last time, “You implicitly asked me to move in with you, didn’t you?”

“Unconsciously.” Stiles groans, “I meant—but I want _all_ of it with you, just so you know. I can go at your pace though as long as it’s not…without you.”

Derek kisses him again, lightly, “I’d like to try living twenty minutes away from my mother, actually, so this is a good offer for me. And it’s close enough for babysitting AJ. You’ve got godfathering to catch up on.”

He takes Stiles’ bag and laces their hands. Stiles squeezes them together as they walk out.


End file.
